


Kintsugi (Call It Love)

by Anna_Heyward



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Actor Steve Rogers, Anal Sex, Boys Kissing, M/M, Meet-Cute, Soldier Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-21
Updated: 2018-01-21
Packaged: 2019-03-06 07:30:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 28,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13406403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anna_Heyward/pseuds/Anna_Heyward
Summary: Lt. James "Bucky" Barnes has had a long day. A cargo plane from Kabul, a 3 hour flight from Istanbul, and another 8-hour flight from Amsterdam, and he's finally made it to JFK. Just two more flights to go - one to Minneapolis, another to Fairbanks - and he'll be back at base. He can pack up his stuff, head back home to Brooklyn, and be a civilian again. He's got his discharge papers; all he has to do now is get through 12 more hours of flying and this long day will be over.But the hot stranger he's seated next to on his flight has Bucky wishing that Minneapolis was a little farther away.





	Kintsugi (Call It Love)

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn't decide between two titles for this fic, so I decided to use both of them. Song lyrics are from "Call It Love" by Poco.

_We’ve got all night_

_Let’s take our time_

_Tell me your secrets_

_I’ll tell you mine_

_When it makes us feel better_

_Call it love_

_***_

_“Lieutenant Barnes, please report to the courtesy desk. Lieutenant James Barnes, you’re needed at the courtesy desk.”_

Bucky silently cursed under his breath as all eyes in the terminal turned toward him. For fuck’s sake, he had just sprinted across the whole goddamn airport, just barely making it on time after his flight into JFK had been delayed by over an hour. He had managed to snag the last available seat at the gate but was surely now going to lose it just as soon as he stood up. And yeah, he’d just come off an 8-hour flight from Amsterdam, and a 3-hour flight from Istanbul before that, plus a cargo plane from Kabul, so he’d basically been sitting down for the better part of a day. That didn’t mean he wanted to stand up for the next 20 minutes or so until the flight started boarding.

Especially since there was now apparently a problem with his ticket.

Bucky bent down and grabbed the strap of his bag, readying himself to hoist the thing over his shoulder as soon as he stood up.

“Hey, um, if you want… if you want, I can watch your stuff for you,” the guy next to him said, and fuck, that voice was like liquid velvet.

“Really?” Bucky glanced over at the source of that voice, immediately stifling a laugh; the guy was wearing aviator sunglasses and a Brooklyn Dodgers baseball cap. Indoors. Well, what the fuck ever. The guy had just offered to do him a favor. “Thanks, man. I appreciate it.”

“No problem. It’s the least I can do. Thank you for your service, Lieutenant.” The guy held out his hand, and Bucky gave it an awkward shake. Four years at the Academy and eight years in the service, and he’d still not quite gotten used to people thanking him. The guy had nice hands, though, to go along with that sexy-as-hell voice. And Jesus, his forearms bulged out in the most delicious way, and the way his shirt stretched across those pecs, and – nope, Bucky needed to stop that train of thought right fucking now. He was not about to get a hard-on over some stranger in an airport. That apparently thought he needed to travel in disguise.

Then again, if the guy’s handshake and Henley alone could make Bucky this flustered, it was probably a good thing that his face was covered. It was bad enough that Bucky had already seen those lips at work, caressing his words as he spoke. No need to entertain thoughts of other things those lips could be doing.

Instead Bucky just turned away and jogged smoothly toward the courtesy desk. Or at least, that was his intention; in reality his feet had long ago begun to swell in his combat boots and now felt like two tons of lead weighing his body down, so of course as soon as he took that first step he tripped over his own goddamn bag and stumbled, falling straight toward the weird hot guy’s lap. He threw a hand out to catch himself, and of course – _of fucking course_ – caught a handful of crotch (and no, he was _absolutely not_ going to let his brain digest what he’d just felt beneath that fabric) just as Hot Guy threw his hands up toward Bucky’s waist to stabilize him.

“Oh, hey, couldn’t you at least buy me dinner first?” Hot Guy joked.

“Jesus fu…” Bucky started, immediately catching himself. He was still wearing his fatigues, which meant he was in uniform, so he probably shouldn’t go around cursing in front of random strangers, no matter how much of an ass he’d just made of himself. Even if it did seem like Hot Guy’s hands lingered just a little longer than necessary as Bucky stood back up. “I’m sorry, man. It’s been a long day.”

“No problem.” Hot Guy just laughed. “It was an accident. Don’t worry about it.”

Bucky nodded, deciding it would be best if he just shut the hell up, and headed toward the courtesy desk. Maybe if there was a God they’d tell him he was being bumped to a later flight and he wouldn’t have to spend the next four hours on the same plane as this random stranger whom he'd somehow managed to completely embarrass himself in front of while already sporting a semi for all in the space of five seconds. And he hadn’t even seen the guy’s face yet.

The perky lady at the courtesy desk flashed him a plastic smile. “Hi! How can I help you?”

“Yeah, I’m Lieutenant Barnes. You…”

“Yes! Lieutenant, we have some good news for you!” She glanced down at her screen and clicked through a few screens, and here it was. She was about to announce he was being bumped to a later flight, maybe offered a comp or two for his trouble. “We’ve taken the liberty of upgrading you to first class for this flight.”

Wait, what?

“First class?” He’d never flown first class before.

“Yes, Lieutenant. As it turns out, we had one first class seat left, so we’ve upgraded your ticket at no additional charge.” She grabbed his new boarding pass off the printer and handed it over with a smile. “Thank you for your service.”

“Yeah. Um, thanks.” Bucky gave the lady as honest a smile as he could manage and pocketed his new ticket, mentally kicking himself as soon as the words left his mouth. Dammit, why couldn’t he just wink and say, “Just doing my job, ma’am,” like Sam always did?

He made his way back to his seat and somehow managed _not_ to trip over his bag, or Hot Guy’s legs, or his own two feet, thank fuck. Well, maybe this flight wouldn’t be so bad after all. First class. What a pisser that was. Maybe he could get drunk off Champagne and forget this whole thing ever happened.

“Everything okay?” Hot Guy asked him.

“Yeah.” Bucky held up his new ticket. “Got bumped up to first class, actually. Can you believe that?”

“Wow. That’s a nice surprise.”

“You’re telling me, pal.”

_“Ladies and gentlemen, we are now ready to begin boarding flight 813 to Minneapolis. At this time we would like to invite our servicemen and women to board first.”_

Bucky stood and grabbed his bag, debating whether to shake the guy’s hand or something, say thank you for holding his seat, but finally decided he’d probably embarrassed himself enough, giving a tiny (utterly awkward; _you’re such a fucking idiot, Barnes_ ) wave as he headed toward the gate. First order of business after becoming a civilian: learn how to fucking talk to attractive men and not make a complete ass of yourself.

 _Yeah, good luck with that_ , he huffed to himself.

He boarded the plane, all by his sweet self, and made his way to his seat on the second row. Fuck, these seats were huge. And comfy. He was gonna sleep like the dead here.

“Oh, hey! Fancy meeting you here!”

Bucky looked up and – fuck, no. No fucking way. Hot Guy was standing right there shoving his bag into the overhead compartment right next to Bucky’s. Then the guy glanced down, hands on his hips, and flashed the single most gorgeous smile Bucky had ever seen in his life; Bucky thought it over, and yeah, he was pretty sure that was not an exaggeration. The guy was still wearing the cap and sunglasses, though. How could one person be so freaking hot and so damn weird at the same time?

Bucky was suddenly aware that he’d been staring and not saying anything. Jesus, it was a mystery for the ages how he could walk into a fucking war zone and bark orders at dozens of soldiers, but put one attractive man in blue jeans and a slightly-too-small Henley in his eye line, and he became stupidly mute. “Yeah. Hey.” He stopped and cleared his throat. “Small world, huh?”

Hot Guy sat down and began fastening his seat belt, and holy Christ, Bucky could feel the heat radiating off this guy as their arms brushed together. Man, he’d thought getting shot by that sniper in Kabul had been torture enough. Nope, this was worse, because it made no goddamn sense. He hadn’t even met the guy, not really. Jesus, what was it about this guy that suddenly had Bucky so discombobulated?

So what now, should he introduce himself? Ask the guy about his day? He could, except that none of the people he’d been seated next to on those other flights had seemed interested in chatting at all. In fact, now that Bucky thought about it he was pretty sure he’d never talked to another passenger on a plane, like _ever_ , except maybe for the occasional “excuse me” when he got up to use the latrine. No, he should probably keep his hands, and his conversation, to himself.

Not that it mattered right now anyway. The plane was loading, with a barrage of people passing by, and Hot Guy kept his head very pointedly down as he inspected the in-flight magazine. Or maybe he was just pretending to inspect the in-flight magazine. Regardless, it was obvious he didn’t want to be bothered.

Eventually the steady stream of passengers slowed to a trickle. The flight attendant passed by, checking that their seats were upright, and Bucky had to fight the urge to follow her eyeline as it veered into Hot Guy’s lap to check his seatbelt. He’d already felt that bulge beneath his fingertips (albeit accidentally); no way was he gonna get caught taking a deliberate look. Not that Hot Guy would’ve even noticed, however, since he was now engrossed in some article about vacation destinations in Bora Bora, completely oblivious to the total idiot who was seated next to him.

The doors to the plane shut, so Bucky settled in to his seat, determined now to get some rest and focus on forgetting the last half hour ever happened. So of course, that’s when Hot Guy chose to take off the hat and the sunglasses, glancing at Bucky and giving an awkward smile as he stuffed them into the seat pocket, and Christ, Bucky just fucking knew it. The guy was just painfully attractive. Bucky was in actual physical pain looking at him.

Or maybe that was the pain of utter humiliation. It was hard to tell.

Hot Guy glanced over and caught Bucky watching him. “Sorry,” he said, gesturing at the seat back that now held his disguise. “I know it’s weird. I just didn’t feel like, you know, being bothered, after… well.” He trailed off with a shrug.

Bucky had no idea what that “after” was about, but he did know a blow-off when he heard one. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to. I’ll leave you alone.”

He settled back in his heat and closed his eyes, willing away the burn of mortification at being caught staring. He heard the guy sigh next to him, probably in irritation. Well, Bucky wasn’t the one who struck up the conversation first, Hot Guy was.

Fuck, he had to stop calling him Hot Guy.

“I’m sorry,” the guy said. “I didn’t mean that to come out the way it did. You weren’t bothering me. I just meant, you know, other people. It’s been a long couple of weeks, and I’m just tired of all the staring, and the comments, and… anyway. I’m sorry.”

But before Bucky could ask Hot Guy exactly what he meant, a voice over the loudspeaker interrupted. _“Ladies and gentlemen, this is your pilot speaking. We have a little bit of an unusual situation here – there has been a power outage at our Atlanta hub, and while this does not directly affect our destination, there has been a little bit of a backup with our air traffic control systems. At this time, it does not appear that this particular flight will be cancelled, but it does look like our takeoff will, unfortunately be delayed by at least one hour. We will keep you updated on the situation as we get more information, and will be on our way as soon as we’ve determined that it is safe for us to depart. Thank you for your patience.”_

Bucky sank down into his seat with a huff. He’d known it would be a long trip back to Fort Wainwright, but he’d at least thought that the planes would, you know, actually fly.

On the bright side, though, at least they bumped him up to the cushy section before deciding to delay the rest of his trip, right? Catching a few extra ZZZs in first class would be like the fucking Hilton after the catnaps he’d taken in coach on the flight from Amsterdam. And even that wasn’t half as bad as some of the places he'd had to bunk down in the desert. All in all, it could’ve been worse.

He wished he could say as much to some of the other passengers grumbling irritatedly around him, though.

“Well that sucks, huh?” Hot Guy asked.

“What?” Bucky blinked, the question taking a moment to register through his reverie. “Sorry. Yeah, I guess.” _Perfect, Barnes. Very articulate of you. Fucking idiot._

“You, um, you stationed in Minneapolis?” Hot Guy asked.

“No. Alaska, actually.”

“Oh, wow. That’s a long way from New York, huh?”

“Yeah.” Bucky huffed a laugh. “Even longer from Afghanistan.”

“Seriously? Fuck. That’s a rough trip, I bet.”

“Yeah, well, I guess considering where I was this time yesterday – or every day for the past year, for that matter – stuck in a plane for an extra hour ain’t so bad.”

Hot Guy frowned for a moment, like he was actually picturing Bucky there in Afghanistan in the 120 degree heat, and his face reddened with embarrassment. “Jeez, I’m really sorry. You’re right. That was really insensitive. I didn’t mean…”

“Hey, don’t worry about it.” Bucky winced; he hadn’t meant to make the guy feel bad. He changed the subject. “So, what about you? You live in Minneapolis?”

Hot Guy looked at Bucky, his features somehow a mix of incredulity and surprise at the question, with a dash of relief at the change of subject in there. It was a fascinating jumble of emotion, and Bucky wondered what exactly it was about his words that had prompted that expression. The guy shook his head and blinked, though, and it was gone. “No. L.A., actually,” he said. “I had some… stuff… I had to do. In New York. Heading back now.”

“So, L.A.’s not all it’s cracked up to be, I take it?”

“Why do you say that?”

“You don’t seem all that thrilled about going there.”

“Yeah, well, it’s been a rough couple of weeks.” Hot Guy looked at Bucky and gave him a sad little smile. Bucky didn’t know whether Hot Guy was sad about leaving New York, or having to go to L.A., or something else entirely, but he immediately wanted never to see that expression ever again, vowing to do everything in his power to make Hot Guy smile. He didn’t know how exactly he was going to accomplish that, seeing as how Hot Guy was a total stranger and Bucky was so utterly out of practice with this sort of thing ( _and for fuck’s sake, you idiot, stop calling him Hot Guy),_ but hey, he had at least an extra hour now to figure it out.

“Oh, hey, I’m sorry, Lieutenant.” Hot Guy shook off his gloomy expression and held out his hand. “Steve Rogers.”

“Nice to meet you.” Bucky took Hot Guy’s – no, _Steve’s_ – hand and shook it. “But you don’t have to keep calling me Lieutenant, you know.”

Steve smiled, a genuine smile with the corners of his eyes crinkling. _That_ was more like it. “Well I’d stop, but I gotta be honest. Didn’t quite catch your name. Those loudspeakers at the gate are basically one step down from Charlie Brown’s teacher in terms of comprehendability.”

“Comprehendability? Is that even a word?”

“Why, were you an English major?”

“No.”

“Then, yes. It’s totally a word. I’m surprised you’ve never heard it before. I thought the Army would be on top of these things.”

“Sorry,” Bucky grinned in spite of himself. “We’ve been kinda busy.”

“And here I thought you guys could multi-task. I gotta say, I’m disappointed.”

“Well, I can pat my head and rub my stomach at the same time, but beyond that, I got nothing.”

“A man of one talent. I like it,” Steve laughed.

Bucky was already addicted to the sound of Steve’s laughter. He wanted more. And yes, he realized how much trouble that meant he was in. “So, what’s your talent, Steve Rogers?”

There was that look again, that look of incredulity and surprise. It flashed over Steve’s features for an instant, but was gone before Bucky could examine it. Steve shrugged. “I like to draw. That counts, right?”

Bucky pretended to mull it over. “Well, it’s not quite as impressive as my talent, but I’ll allow it.”

That garnered another laugh. “Well, that’s very generous of you, Lieutenant…”

“Barnes. James Barnes.” Bucky held out his hand, then immediately realized they’d just done this not a minute before. Steve didn’t seem to notice or care, though, taking Bucky’s hand in his own and giving it a nice, strong squeeze. Bucky immediately missed its warmth when Steve released his grasp, and wondered if he could somehow work a third handshake into the conversation.  “Call me Bucky, though. I’m only technically a Lieutenant for another week or so. I’m actually being discharged.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Bucky. And congratulations on the discharge. Being unemployed is awesome. You’re gonna love it.”

“That sounds like the voice of experience. Any advice for a future bum?”

“Ah, yes! Finally my years of joblessness are going to pay off!” Steve cackled, rubbed his hands together. “Okay. First of all, you gotta get to your street corner early. Make sure you beat the rush-hour crowd. You sleep in and someone else gets there first? You’ve wasted all that prime panhandling time.”

“Panhandling? You?” Bucky shook his head. “I don’t buy it.”

Steve feigned offense. “How dare you doubt the wisdom of my experience!”

“Sorry.” Bucky held back a laugh. “Please continue.”

“Thank you. Now where was I?”

“Panhandling, apparently.”

“Yes, thank you. Okay, second, you gotta have a hook, too. Play an instrument, something like that. Something to get people to notice you.”

Bucky nodded. “Alright, no sleeping in. Find a hook. Got it.”

“Also – and this is pretty important – you might wanna think about someplace other than Alaska. Sitting outside on a street corner in a place where there are times when the sun literally never comes out?”

“God, I always hated that,” Bucky sighed. “But thankfully, won’t be a problem. I’m not staying in Fairbanks.”

“Oh? Where is homelessness taking you?”

“I’m jobless, not homeless, you punk. I’ll be staying with my folks in Brooklyn for a week or so, then I got a buddy who said I can bunk with him and his wife ‘til I find a place. I might be living off ramen for a while until I get situated, but hey, I’ve eaten worse, so.” Bucky shrugged.

Steve held up a finger. “Hey, don’t knock ramen noodles. I spent quite a few years living off those things when I was first starting out. They’re actually pretty versatile.”

“Versatile? Steve, it’s literally noodles, water, and salt. There’s not a whole lot to it.”

“Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong. Ramen noodles are awesome! Crack a couple of eggs into them and add some green onion? Almost like what you’d get at one of those Japanese restaurants, and for a lot less money. Eggs are a cheap enough protein as long as you don’t care about buying the expensive farm-raised, omega-3 ones. And the green onions you can re-grow yourself, so you only have to buy them once.”

“So in addition to being a seasoned panhandler you were also a farmer, too, during these lean years?”

Steve rolled his eyes. “You know I was kidding about the panhandling, right?”

Bucky laughed. “I know. I’m just messing with you.”

A smile teased at the corners of Steve’s lips. “Seriously, though, you just put the bulbs in a glass of water in the windowsill, and they grow right back.”

“Wait, seriously? That works?”

“Oh, yeah,” Steve nodded. “It also works with leeks, too. And if you have room for a full window box, with soil and everything, you can also re-plant celery, romaine lettuce, bok choy…”

“ _Bok choy?_ What do you even do with that stuff?”

“Stir-fry. Rice is pretty cheap, and easy to cook on the stovetop. You ever get tired of ramen, fried rice is a good alternative. Oh! And homemade bread is so easy. And once you master that, there’s so many variations...”

“Pal, I just came from a war zone. And I’ve pretty much eaten nothing but mess hall food or MREs for the last twelve years. You think I know how to bake bread?”

Steve shrugged. “I could teach you. It’s not hard.”

“What, right here? In first class?” Bucky frowned and snapped his finger. “Dammit, I didn’t pack my oven.”

“Jerk.” Steve blushed as he smiled shyly. Bucky couldn't take his eyes off that rosy hue spreading down Steve’s face. “I meant I could send you my mom’s recipe. I bet even a man of one talent could handle it.”

“You’d give me your secret family recipe? Seriously? What would your mom say?”

Steve’s eyebrows pinched together, and he looked down solemnly at his lap. “She passed away last week. That’s why I had to fly back to New York, actually.”

“Oh, geez, Steve, I’m so sorry.” Bucky placed a consoling hand on Steve’s forearm, the most contact he was willing to risk with a virtual (hot, funny, charming, _you’re totally fucked, Barnes, admit it_ ) stranger. “Fuck, I shouldn’t have said anything. I’m an idiot, really. Don’t let the fancy rank fool you. I don’t know what I’m saying half the time.”

“It’s okay.” Steve huffed a small laugh, and Bucky counted it as a win. “Don’t worry about it. You didn’t know.”

“Yeah, but still. I’m sorry, Steve.” Would it be weird if he touched Steve’s arm again? It would probably be weird. “And, hey, if you want me to leave you alone, I totally get it.” _Please say no, please say no, please say no._

“No. No, I’m actually enjoying talking to you. This is the most fun I’ve had in weeks, to be honest.”

And the tiny little pained smile that Steve flashed him was just so beautiful in its rawness. Bucky could just see written all over Steve’s face how much he’d probably been smiling through his grief, yet here he was, letting just a tiny crack of that grief show through. To Bucky, of all people. And Bucky had no idea how he knew it based on the short interaction they’d shared, but he had a strong feeling that Steve didn’t let people see this side of himself very often. It was humbling.

And scary as fuck, if Bucky was being perfectly honest with himself. Because until that one single smile, he could’ve convinced himself that this was just friendliness, just two guys trapped on a plane shooting the shit to pass the time. But now? Now that Steve’s just given him the single most honest smile Bucky has ever gotten from a (attractive, _holy Jesus have you seen him, please God let Steve be single_ ) man? Shit just got real.

God, Bucky was fucked.

“I’m sorry.” Steve interrupted Bucky’s self-flagellation. “I didn’t mean to put such a damper on the conversation.”

“No, no it’s fine. I mean… Jesus that sounded bad. Look, I’m sorry about your mom. If there’s anything I can do…”

“You’re doing it, actually. Just keep talking to me about random shit?”

Bucky nodded. “That I can do. So, growing veggies and baking bread. Any other money-saving tips you can pass on from your lean years?”

Steve chuckled. “I guess I kinda got carried away, huh? It’s funny, but part of me kinda misses those days sometimes.”

“What, no time to make ramen or grow green onions these days?”

“Nah. I travel so much for work that I can’t really have plants. And I gotta keep in shape for work, so my trainer’s got me on this diet – lots of chicken and fish, steamed broccoli, you know. Very boring, very little flavor.”

Bucky eyed the guy, wondering what he did for a living that left no room for, you know, living. Or, at least, eating. “You a bodybuilder or something?” No, wait. The guy said he traveled. “Fuck, are you a model?”

Steve blushed, and gave an embarrassed laugh. “No. I’m flattered, though.”

“Oh, come on. You live in L.A. You’ve seriously never had anyone tell you you could be a model?”

“Okay, I know being in a war zone and all you probably didn’t have much time to look at fashion magazines…”

“Hey, I _do_ jerk off on occasion.”

Steve’s face suddenly went beet red. It was delicious.  “Be that as it may, fashion photographers like their models lean. Not, you know, 200 lbs. with 17 inch biceps.”

Bucky gaped. “I’m sorry, why do you even know that about yourself?”

“Oh, like you’ve never gotten a tape measure out.”

Bucky coughed. “Don’t change the subject. I believe you were finally about to tell me what it is you do for a living?”

Steve frowned for a moment, doing this little head-wobble like he was having some sort of internal argument with himself. “Do you think… actually, if you don’t mind, I’d like to… _not_ talk about it? Not that it’s, like, illegal or anything, it’s just… I end up having to talk about work so much, and I’d kinda like to… _not_ talk about it for a while. If that’s okay.”

Before Bucky could even begin to peel back all the layers of Steve’s answer and try to formulate a response, the flight attendant popped back up. “You gentlemen doing okay? Can I get you anything while we’re waiting?”

Bucky shook his head. “No, thank you.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Steve added. “We’re good.”

“Okay. Let me know if there’s anything I can do,” she replied with a smile that was clearly directed at Steve and _not_ at Bucky.

Bucky did _not_ suddenly want to punch her. Not at all.

“And Mr. Rogers,” she added, “I just wanted to say how deeply sorry I am about your mom.”

“Thank you,” Steve nodded politely. “That’s very sweet.”

Bucky frowned. Had he missed something? How did this random flight attendant know that Steve’s mom died? Wait, were she and Steve, like, old friends or something? Fuck, she was probably an old girlfriend. The love of Steve’s life. The one that got away. And now here fate was, bringing the two of them back together again. Fucking perfect.

“And I… I know I’m probably not supposed to say this,” she continued, “but, you know, I like the Howling Commandos movies and all, but _20 Times a Lady_ is one of my favorite movies of all-time. Like, I could just watch that over and over again. You should do comedy more, seriously.”

Oh god. Oh fuck. Oh fucking God. Bucky recognized that title. It was one of Becca’s favorite movies. Which, now that he thought about it, happened to star a guy named Steve.

Suddenly Bucky’s world tilted on its axis. He stopped breathing. Or he was hyperventilating. It was hard to tell, but it was probably one of those two.

One moment everything had made sense – well, as much sense as it made that Bucky was sitting in freaking first class exchanging witty, flirtatious banter with the most beautiful man he'd ever seen, because let’s be honest, shit like that just didn’t fucking happen – and now, everything was upside-down. North was south, positive was negative, and this was apparently some alternate reality where Bucky casually flirted with _movie stars_.

Holy fucking _shit_. Steve was a goddamned Movie Star. With capital letters and everything.

How had Bucky not made the connection? Sure, he’d never actually seen any of the Howling Commandos movies, but he’d heard the guys talk about them enough over the past few years. Surely the name Steve Rogers would’ve come up at some point?

Fuck, Bucky was a goddamn idiot. He groaned – not out loud, fuck no, but mentally – going back over their conversations over the last hour. Jesus, fuck had he just asked Steve Fucking Rogers if he was a model? And oh god, he’d fallen into Steve Rogers’ lap back at the airport. _He’d had Steve Rogers’ actual dick in his hand_. Through two layers of fabric, but still. Fuck, this was bad. This was so very bad.

Because Bucky might as well admit it to himself now – he really liked Steve. He couldn’t remember ever in his life having felt like this so soon after meeting someone. Like, if this were a date he’d probably be at the point where he’d be contemplating _not_ sleeping with the guy, because a connection like this didn’t just fucking happen and he wouldn’t want to rush things.

Oh, God, Bucky was so completely, utterly, and in all other ways fucked.

 

***

_You say you won’t_

_I say you will_

_You make me crazy_

_But I want you still_

_When it makes us feel better_

_Call it love_

_***_

 

Bucky had no idea what to think.

On the one hand, he wanted to scream at the heavens about how fucking unfair it was that he’d finally met a decent guy after all these years of being single and putting his career first, and said guy turned out to be this totally unobtainable god of an actor.

On the other hand, though, when had Bucky’s life ever been fair? He had to face it, even if Steve hadn’t been a celebrity, Bucky still wouldn’t have stood a chance. Life just didn’t work like that. After all, they’d met on a plane, for fuck’s sake. A plane to Minneapolis. That Bucky was taking on his way to Alaska. Where Steve most assuredly did not live.

Bucky would’ve been fucked either way.

“Sorry about that,” Steve said. “Usually they wait until later in the flight before they say anything, but you know. We, uh…”

“Haven’t actually left the airport yet?” Bucky just couldn’t help it. The absurdity of it all – the laughter bubbled up, spilling out in hysterical gasps.

Steve glanced at Bucky, sitting there laughing maniacally at his screwed-up lot in life, and cracked a reluctant smile. His smile eventually broke into a quiet laugh, and before either of them knew it they were both gasping for air they were laughing so hard.

“Oh, god,” Bucky sighed, fighting to regain his composure. “This is so fucked up.”

“You’re telling me.”

“So, you’re Steve Rogers. _That_ Steve Rogers.”

Steve nodded.

“And you weren’t gonna say anything?”

Steve frowned. “Fuck, I… okay, this is gonna sound really fucked up, but it was really nice talking to someone who had no fucking clue who I was for once.”

“Language, Rogers.”

“Oh, shut up. You said it first, anyway.” Steve’s smile saddened slightly, and he sighed. “It’s just… things have been really shitty lately. And I know we just met and all, so this is gonna sound super weird, but… I’ve really enjoyed talking to you. And I hate it, I _hate_ it that I can’t have anything normal like a nice conversation with a cute guy without him getting all weirded out by the whole celebrity thing. I mean, I saw your face when she mentioned the movies. You honestly had no idea who I was before that, right? And it was really nice, but then it’s like… once people know, then everything becomes about that. But the thing is, that’s not who I am. Those movies – that’s just what I do. It’s such a small part of me; I have so much more to offer than that, and _holy fuck_ , now I sound like a bad Lifetime movie. Jesus. I’m just gonna shut up now.”

Bucky sat there in silence for a moment, just letting Steve’s words sink in. This was still so absurd; what Steve said didn’t change any of that. Clearly, he and Steve had some kind of natural chemistry. But for fuck’s sake, the guy had just buried his mom. And considering the circumstances, it wasn’t exactly as if the two of them would be headed anywhere other than opposite ends of the country just as soon as the plane landed.

But still, was Bucky crazy, or did Steve seem… kinda lonely?

Just like Bucky?

Would it really be so out of left field to at least talk to the guy?

“Bucky, please say something.”

What’s something Bucky would say to diffuse an awkward situation? ( _Come on, you’d be a little shit and you know it.)_ “You think I’m cute?”

“Oh god,” Steve groaned. “I take it back. Don’t talk anymore. Let’s just sit here in silence until we get to Minneapolis.”

Bucky grinned. “Nope. You can’t take it back. It’s out there now.”

“Are you quoting _When Harry Met Sally_ at me?”

“What?” Bucky blinked at Steve. “No! I mean, not on purpose. Do I look like a lover of cheesy romantic comedies?”

“ _What?_ Did you seriously just call the greatest romantic movie of all time _cheesy_?”

“Yes, cheesy. Come on, best friends fall in love against a backdrop of every scenic spot in New York City? It’s so painfully cliché. I’m in actual physical pain right now, just thinking about it.”

Steve eyed Bucky for a long moment. “You’ve never actually seen it, have you?”

“That doesn’t make my assessment any less true.”

“You know, if I was allowed to use my cell phone right now I’d _totally_ make you watch it.”

Bucky felt his cheeks heat. _This is not a date, remember. No mental images of cuddling into Steve’s (probably rock hard; nope, do not think about him doing shirtless crunches) side. Just two guys shooting the shit_. _Like friends do_.

_Just friends. _

“So what are some of your other favorite movies?” Bucky asked.

“Oh god, _Braveheart_. Hands down.”

“Never seen it.”

Steve gaped at Bucky. “You’ve never seen _Braveheart_? What is wrong with you?”

“I’m more of a Coen Brothers kind of guy. You know, _The Big Lebowski, Raising Arizona_ …”

Steve shook his head. “Never seen either of those.”

Now it was Bucky’s turn to gape. “You’ve seriously never seen _Raising Arizona_? It’s, like, one of the greatest comedies of all time! It’s a classic!”

“So is _Braveheart_! It won Oscars!”

“Yeah, so did _Titanic_ , but I’m not watching that shit.”

Steve laughed. “Point taken. But seriously, _Braveheart_ is a phenomenal movie. Promise me you’ll watch it when you get back to Alaska.”

“Fine, as long as you promise me you’ll watch _Raising Arizona_. Preferably with a six pack and a friend. It’s better if you’re drunk and with company.”

“Ah. In that case, well… I’d say watch _Braveheart_ with a box of Kleenex, but you don’t seem the type. So, maybe just watch it alone. And have a shirt sleeve handy.”

“Wait, am I hearing this right? Did Steve Rogers, Actor Extraordinaire, just admit to being a crier at movies?”

Steve stopped for a moment, giving Bucky a tentative look. “Are you really okay with this? With the whole actor thing? I know that was kind of out of left field.”

Bucky sighed. Now was _not_ the time to come clean about his real feelings. Which he wasn’t gonna think about anyway. Because this wasn’t a date. _Quick, deflect with sarcasm_. “Okay, I guess it depends.”

“On what?”

“Well, considering I’ve never actually seen one of your movies, I’m not really sure I can fully support your decision to be an actor. I mean, what if you suck? I just don’t know that I could stand behind you and say I’m okay with the acting thing if you’re basically this generation’s Nicholas Cage?”

Steve cocked an eyebrow at him. “You know, you can’t extol the comedic wonders of _Raising Arizona_ in one breath and then say Nicholas Cage sucks in the next.”

“Okay, fair point. He only mostly sucks. But that just proves my point – one good movie doesn’t erase the entire rest of his sucky career. Just ‘cause you play some superhero doesn’t mean you don’t suck too.”

“Wow. You don’t pull your punches, do you?” Steve laughed, a light blush spreading across his cheeks. “Would it help my case if I told you I was nominated for a People’s Choice Award?”

“Which category?”

“Favorite Action Movie Actor.”

“Did you win?”

“Sadly, no. None of us stood a chance against Matt Damon.”

“Matt Damon?” Bucky balked. “That old hack? Clearly you need to up your shameless self-promotion game.”

“And I suppose that’s something you could help me with?” Steve cocked an eyebrow at Bucky, and _goddamn_ was that sexy.

But Bucky swallowed it down. “What are friends for?”

 

* * *

 

At some point the plane may or may not have taken off; Bucky wasn’t really sure. The only thing he was sure of was that he could’ve talked to Steve all day. He wanted to know everything.

“What’s the first movie you ever remember seeing?”

“In the theater, or at home?”

“Theater.”

“E.T.” Steve smiled softly, eyes unfocused as he looked into the past. “I was in kindergarten. Mom picked me up from school early. She told my teacher that Aunt May was sick and we had to go to the hospital, and I can remember being so confused because I had no idea who Aunt May was.”

“You don’t have an Aunt May, do you?”

“No,” Steve chuckled. “I was horrified when I found out that Mom lied to my teacher, and I kept insisting we go back and apologize.”

“Oh my god,” Bucky laughed. “What did she do?”

“She told me she’d apologize after we ate lunch. Then she took me to McDonald’s and I decided it didn’t matter anymore.”

“And then she took you to the movies after?”

“Yeah. She told me it was a movie about a man from space. So I’m sitting there, all of 6 years old, waiting for some scary movie about astronauts, and instead…”

“You ended up a snotty, weeping mess?”

“Oh, so you’ve seen that one?”

 

*

 

“Dude, you’re crazy!”

“No really,” Steve insisted. “There’s this place in L.A. that makes the best ones you’ve ever tasted. Will completely change your opinion on burgers.”

“No freaking way am I eating a veggie burger, for starters, but with peanut butter and cole slaw? That sounds disgusting.”

“It’s peanut sauce, not peanut butter, you doofus. And the slaw is this amazing cilantro-cabbage blend…”

“Oh, well there you go. I don’t like cilantro.”

Steve practically jumped out of his seat. “You don’t like cilantro?! What is wrong with you?”

“What is wrong with _me_? I’m not the one messing up a perfectly good American burger with peanut butter and cilantro.”

“Peanut _sauce_. It’s Thai. And it’s amazing, for your information.”

“Whatever. Living in L.A. has obviously ruined your taste buds. Look, burgers are sacred. You don’t go messing around with them, adding stuff that shouldn’t be there. Beef, cheese, bacon, and ketchup. Lots of it. That is all you need.”

“What, no lettuce? Onion? Pickles? Tomato?”

Bucky looked at Steve like he was crazy. “If I wanted salad with my burger, I’d order a salad.”

 

*

“Are you out of your goddamn mind?” Bucky practically bellowed.

Steve shrugged. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t a fan.”

“But it’s _The Godfather_! How could you not like _The Godfather_?!”

“I didn’t say I didn’t like it. I just thought, compared to the book, the movie was…”

“Timeless? Utterly flawless? One of the best movies of all time?”

“It was crap.”

Bucky could not believe that he was ever attracted to this guy. He took it all back. “Oh my god, how can you say that? What is wrong with you?”

“Haven’t you ever read a book first and then seen the movie second? The movie never lives up. It isn’t possible.”

“Yeah, but Marlon Brando! Al Pacino! James Caan! These guys are legends! And completely paved the way for what you yourself do today, I might add.”

Steve let out an irritated sigh. “I _can_ respect someone as an actor and not love every single movie they’ve ever made, you know. That doesn’t make me a hypocrite. But I’m not going to sit here and apologize to you for being pissed at Francis Ford Coppola for cutting out half of one of the best books that’s ever been written – and yes, I realize that if he’d left everything in the movie would’ve been ten hours long – but what got left in was completely disjointed and made very little sense.”

“I can’t… I literally cannot believe what I’m hearing. Forget _Braveheart_ ; if we could use phones right now we’d be watching _The Godfather_ so I could make you see how awesome it is.”

“Or maybe I’d pull up the book on my kindle app and make _you_ realize how awesome _that_ is.”

Bucky shook his head in disbelief. “I should call your agent and tell him to revoke your acting license, or whatever.”

Steve laughed. “Hate to break it to you, but if they didn’t revoke my SAG card after _The Teen Mother of All Movies!_ , I don’t think hating _The Godfather_ is gonna do it.”

 

*

 

“My favorite birthday? Probably my tenth.” Bucky smiled fondly as the memories came to the surface. “Dad had lost his job so we had to leave our old place in Staten Island and move in with Aunt Jean and Uncle Vin for a while, so I wasn’t expecting much. You know, just a cake, maybe some balloons. Second-hand gifts from the Salvation Army.”

“Bucky.” Steve sighed sympathetically, and placed his hand on Bucky’s knee. Bucky fought with every ounce of self-control he could muster not to place his hand on top and thread his fingers through Steve’s, and tried not to think about the look on Steve’s face that somehow seemed to scream, “ _If it were up to me you’d never want for anything ever again.”_

_Just finish the damn story, Barnes._

“Anyway, Mom made my favorite waffles for breakfast. Then Dad told me we were spending the day together, just the two of us. I was so freaking excited, it didn’t even matter to me what we did. Because that was the first time I’d seen my Dad smile in almost a month.”

“So what’d you guys do?” Steve asked, his hand still on Bucky’s knee. Did he forget it was there? Was he doing this on purpose, trying to drive Bucky crazy?

Bucky cleared his throat and continued. “We took the bus. Dad wouldn’t tell me where we were going, so every time the bus stopped I’d ask him, ‘Is it this one?’ and he'd just smile and say, ‘Nope.’ And then finally we got out, right in front of the Staten Island Ferry Terminal.”

“Oh my god, the ferry! I remember that from when I was a kid!” Steve removed his hand from Bucky’s knee in his apparent excitement, and clapped Bucky on the pectoral. Bucky didn’t know which one of those he liked better; Steve should definitely do both of them again so he could decide. “I only got to do it once, since we lived in Brooklyn, but it was the coolest thing ever.”

“Yeah, same here,” Bucky nodded. “We moved to Brooklyn not long after, so I only got to do it the one time. But Dad and I spent the whole day in Battery Park. Mostly we just walked around, played in the fountains a little, watched the boats out on the bay, you know, nothing special. But to a little kid who’d never been out of our little neighborhood in Staten Island, it was the whole world. And my Dad, god, he was so happy that day.”

“Did you get your cake?”

“Yep. Batman,” Bucky laughed.

“Ugh. Really, Bucky? DC?”

“I was ten. And shut up, Batman is cool.”

“Iron Man is cooler,” Steve muttered.

“Oh my god. You still _are_ ten, aren’t you?”

“Shut up."

 

*

 

“Okay, so we decided to go to Trafalgar Square, right?” Steve began. “And I’d been looking forward to it all week. I know it’s stupid, but it’s just so iconic, you know?”

“Absolutely,” Bucky agreed, remembering his own visit to London when he’d been stationed in Germany.

“So we get there, and there must be about a thousand people gathered. Some sort of Jesus rally or something. Seriously, shoulder to shoulder people. All I wanted was to get one picture of me standing on the steps. But there were so many people there, it just didn’t work.”

“Oh, man. That sucks.”

“Yeah. But then just as we were about to leave, we see a bunch of people crowding around the street, pointing and taking pictures. So we go check it out, right?” Steve paused, a devilish grin spreading across his face.

“And?” Bucky prodded. “What was it?”

“A parade. Of bicycle riders. _Naked_ bicycle riders.”

“No shit!” Bucky laughed.

“Rode right by the Jesus rally and the guy yelling about the bible. We followed them around for a few blocks, actually. So now my London travel photos are filled with pictures of naked bike riders in front of famous London landmarks.”

“That sounds like a hell of a series.”

“Yeah, I keep waiting for The Met to call, but so far, nothing.”

 

*

 

“Oh, Becca and I used to prank each other all the time. Mostly harmless stuff, like replacing her hair gel with Astroglide, putting salt in the sugar bowl, stuff like that.” Bucky giggled, remembering some of the evil things he and his sister used to torture each other with. “Okay, so this one time, she was having all her friends over for a slumber party. Mom had bought a bunch of 2 liter bottles of soda for them to drink. So I take the cap of every single one, tie Mentos on a string, and put them back on just under the cap. Just one per bottle, that’s all you need. See, you pull the string holding the Mento under the threads when you twist the cap on, then cut the string off so you can’t see there’s anything there. The Mento is completely hidden under the cap.”

“Ah. Then you take the cap off, the Mento falls…”

“And soda sprays everywhere. God, she was pissed.”

Steve smiled, his eyes twinkling in the mid-morning (maybe; Bucky hadn’t looked at his watch since he’d landed at JFK, to be honest) sun. “So what’d she do to get back at you?”

“Replaced my deodorant with cream cheese.”

“Oh god,” Steve laughed.

“The day I was scheduled to meet with Congressman Fury about a West Point nomination.”

“No!” Steve bellowed, laughing so hard he threw his hand out and grabbed Bucky’s pectoral again. Bucky loved watching Steve laugh, loved that Steve lost himself in it so much that it became a full-contact sport.

“That’s okay. I nailed the interview anyway, of course. And I got even right before I left.”

“What’d you do?”

“I took her computer keyboard apart and planted grass seeds in it.” Bucky grinned. “I tell you, picturing her face when the grass started growing through the keys is probably the only thing that got me through R-Day.”

“R-Day?”

“Reception day. It’s your first day at the Academy, when you leave your old life behind and become a cadet. Get your head shaved, get your uniform, learn how to salute and how to march, stuff like that. You basically get yelled at all day.”

“Ah. So it’s kinda like filming an Oliver Stone movie, huh?”

 

* * *

 

Bucky had never lost track of time so intensely in his life.

He hadn’t even noticed when they’d taken off; some part of his brain must’ve registered it at some point, because he was wearing his seat belt. And he’d had his in-flight drink, although he couldn’t tell you even if there was a bible and a judge present what it had been. He’d just gotten so lost in talking to Steve, in learning every little tic of his eyebrow, every twitch of his lips as he smiled, every shade of blue in his eyes when the sun hit them just right.

But it wasn’t just that; sure, Steve was attractive, but he was… he was just Steve, okay? Steve who liked weird foods and liked to read, who had never seen _A Christmas Story_ or _It’s a Wonderful Life_. Steve, who knew every free thing there was to do in New York (like Bucky) because he’d grown up poor (like Bucky). Steve, with whom Bucky had so much in common, yet about whom there was still so much Bucky wanted to know.

Bucky wanted to know more. He wanted to know everything there was to know about this man, and goddamn if it didn’t suck ass, balls, or whatever body part Bucky could think of that there was a limit on the time he'd get to spend with Steve. There was a shadow over their conversation now, at least on Bucky’s end of things, knowing that pretty soon they’d be saying goodbye, never to see each other again.

Bucky needed more time. He wasn’t ready to say goodbye to Steve yet.

So it came as a complete shock when, 7 hours after boarding the plane, the announcement that they were about to land was followed by an announcement of another sort.

_“Ladies and gentlemen, we are sorry to inform you, but the power outage at our Atlanta hub has caused further delays, so it looks like the majority of the flights for the rest of the day have been cancelled. We do have several attendants at the courtesy desk who will be happy to assist you in rescheduling your flights, if necessary, and of course, you will be compensated for the inconvenience.”_

The clouds lifted.

He’d be stuck in an airport in Minneapolis, sure, but he’d be stuck with Steve. The gods had given him a reprieve.

Except the way Bucky’s luck worked, Steve’s would probably be the one flight that wasn’t cancelled. This was probably still the end. Shit; he wasn’t ready for this to be over yet. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He was in way too deep; he recognized that now. He’d probably be flying back tomorrow after sleeping on a dirty airport carpet to his crappy little rental in Fairbanks, knowing that he’d met the perfect guy, had one perfect day (well, part of a day) with him, and would never see him again.

He still hadn’t asked Steve about his mom. About which posters hung on his wall when he was younger. About who his best friend in kindergarten was. About his first date, his first kiss, his first time having sex ( _wait,_ _nope; stop it, do not think about Steve all naked and sweaty and thrusting_).

“Well, that’s a hell of a thing, huh?” Steve asked, breaking his reverie.

“Yeah,” Bucky huffed. “Sucks.”

“But, hey. They didn’t say all the flights are cancelled. Maybe you’ll still get to Fairbanks, huh?” Steve knocked Bucky’s shoulder with his own, completely missing the point of why Bucky was so frustrated right now.

“Yeah.” Bucky sniffed a hollow laugh. “And maybe you’ll still get to L.A.”

Steve flashed Bucky a wry smile. “I don’t know; not getting to L.A. right away wouldn’t be such a huge tragedy.”

Right. Because Steve was flying back right after having buried his mother. He probably wasn’t in the mood for meetings or directors or reporters. _Or dating_ , Bucky’s subconscious so helpfully reminded him.

“But hey.” Steve knocked Bucky’s shoulder again. “We still have a few more minutes ‘til we land. Why don’t you tell me about the first place you were stationed?”

So Bucky spent the last few minutes of his flight regaling Steve with tales of Ft. Leonard Wood, soaking in as many details as he could about the way Steve smelled, how the sun highlighted the little freckles across the bridge of his nose, how he looked at Bucky as if Bucky was the only thing that mattered in the world, and Bucky tried his damnedest not to think about how he'd buried his desire for exactly this for so long, and how fucking hard it was gonna be to let it go now that he knew what it felt like.

 

* * *

 

“So,” Steve sighed. “Looks like we’re heading for the courtesy desk, huh?”

Bucky took one last look at the Departures board, double-triple-quadruple checking just to make sure. The Fairbanks flight was cancelled. The L.A. flight was cancelled. His and Steve’s flights were both cancelled. He had no idea what was gonna happen next, but he’d at least been granted a few more minutes before delaying the inevitable.

Because Steve had said “we.”

“Yeah, looks like we are,” Bucky nodded.

The line at the desk was insane, understandably. And Bucky would’ve considered it among the most torturous activities he'd ever been made to participate in if it weren’t for how utterly ridiculous Steve looked once again wearing his sunglasses and Dodgers cap indoors. “You know you’re not actually fooling anyone with that disguise, right?”

Steve shrugged. “Fooled you.”

“That’s not fair. I had no idea who you were.”

Steve leaned over and whispered in Bucky’s ear, sending a delicious shiver down his spine despite his utter exhaustion. “Which is the whole point of the disguise.”

Bucky shook his head and laughed as he stepped toward the front of the line. Fucking finally.

His flight was rescheduled for the following morning, and shocker of all shockers, he was given a voucher for a free hotel room. He’d get to sleep in an actual bed tonight instead of the airport floor. Maybe his day was looking up after all. Hell, maybe Steve would be flying out tomorrow too. Maybe they could grab some dinner somewhere. Maybe Steve would want to stay in the same hotel.

He shook off that train of thought, unwilling to follow it to its conclusion.

Steve joined him a few minutes later. “So, when’s your new flight?”

“Tomorrow, 10:15. You?”

Steve broke out into a wide smile. “10:30. You want my hotel voucher?”

“You don’t want it?”

“Eh, I’m a millionaire. I can afford a hotel room. You, on the other hand, are soon to be unemployed. Might need it.” Steve held up the piece of paper and waved it.

“That almost sounded like an insult.” Bucky snatched the voucher out of Steve’s hand anyway. “But seeing as how it’s true, I’ll forgive you.”

“I appreciate it,” Steve grinned. “So, food?”

“Yeah, but we should probably call the hotel first. Book our rooms before they fill up.”

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right.” Steve fidgeted with the strap on his bag, looking off into the crowded distance. He looked back at Bucky and cocked his head toward the wall. “Over here, okay?”

Steve made his way through the crowd, Bucky pulling out his phone as he followed. He was about to dial the number of the hotel listed on his voucher when Steve reached out and stilled his hand. “Wait a sec.”

Bucky glanced up. Steve pulled off his glasses. He seemed nervous, eyes flitting back and forth between the floor and Bucky’s face a few times before he finally cleared his throat and spoke. “Okay, this is gonna seem… weird, or whatever, because we just met, but I was thinking, maybe you’d… do you wanna share a hotel room with me?”

Bucky’s mind went completely blank.

“I don’t mean like that,” Steve stammered. “Not like, I wanna hook up with you or anything, although you’re the nicest, funniest, hottest guy I’ve met in a long time, and if we’d met in L.A. I’d totally be asking you out right now. But I’m not asking because I wanna sleep with you. I mean, I _do_ , but not, like, tonight… oh god I’m such a fucking idiot. _Stop talking, Steve._ I just… I’ve enjoyed talking to you, and I don’t want to say goodbye to you just yet, so I thought we could, I don’t know, maybe stay up late and order room service and watch pay per view, and shoot the shit until we fall asleep? I’ll pay, of course. You can save your vouchers for next time.”

Bucky didn’t know what to say; his brain was replaying an endless loop of Steve saying _I’d totally be asking you out right now._ As if he might have already done so had they met under different circumstances.

Which just reinforced the fact that there was still an expiration date on their time together. But, fuck it. They could still have this one night together, and by god, Bucky did want to do all those things Steve had said. He wanted to stay up late and watch movies and shoot the shit, even though it would make saying goodbye that much harder in the morning.

“Okay,” he breathed at last, knowing he was basically shooting himself in the foot. Or the heart, as it were. “Let’s do it.”

 

***

 

_Do we tell the truth_

_Or do we live a lie_

_Is the feeling good_

_Is that what makes you cry_

_When you say those words_

_Look me in the eye_

_And tell me why you call it love_

 

***

 

Bucky graduated from freaking West Point.

A school so hard to get into you needed a Congressman to nominate you for admission (or, if you were well-connected enough, someone even higher up the political scale). Even then you only had about a 9% chance of getting accepted. Fewer still actually made it past R-Day.

Bucky had been one of the few. He’d worked his ass off to get in, and had the SAT scores to back it up.

That didn’t mean that Bucky Barnes wasn’t a _complete goddamn fucking idiot_.

To be sitting in a cab on the way to Who-The-Fuck-Knows Fancy-Ass hotel in downtown Minneapolis with some guy he’d just met a few hours before? There was so much insanity in that decision, Bucky didn’t know what to mentally berate himself for first – the fact that the guy sitting next to him was a total stranger and could, for all practical purposes, possibly be an axe murderer; or the fact that Bucky was pretty sure the guy next to him wasn’t an axe murderer because he was a famous fucking movie star.

One whose reputation could be completely ruined if he were caught sharing a hotel room with a guy he'd just met. Bucky didn’t know if Steve was “out” publicly or not, and he certainly didn’t ask because it was none of his fucking business, but he knew that it wouldn’t matter either way. Hollywood loved a scandal, and this certainly had the makings of one, if they were to get caught.

They’d come up with a spur-of-the-moment cover story, just in case: Steve Rogers the Actor was accompanying his good old friend Bucky Barnes the War Hero home from Afghanistan. _Yes, sir, Mr. Reporter, our schedules just happened to match up so we thought we’d fly back together for the New-York-to-where-the-fuck-ever leg of our journey, and we haven’t seen each other in so long what with the whole being away at war thing, so we thought we’d share a hotel room while we’re stuck here. You know, spend some time together catching up, order room service, watch pay-per-view, shoot the shit. That’s all. Nothing else to see here._

They’d both grown up in Brooklyn. It could’ve been true. No one had asked so far, but still.

Bucky kept to himself on the cab ride to the hotel, head against the glass as he watched streets and buildings he didn’t recognize pass by in a blur. Seriously, what the hell was he doing? He should put a stop to this right now. When they got to the hotel, he’d just pull Steve aside and tell him this was a bad idea. He had those vouchers; he could find another place to stay, no problem. One that didn’t come with the added risk of a ruined career (for Steve) and a broken heart (for himself). Just cut his losses right now, before it came to any of that.

And the fact that he was already worried about the status of his heart a mere 9 hours after meeting the guy just proved that this was a _bad fucking idea_. There was no way in hell this was gonna end well. Okay, sure, there were cell phones, and email, and after Bucky got settled maybe there were even plane rides between New York and L.A.

And sure, if Steve were any other guy Bucky would think those were actually viable options.

But the fact that he was thinking these insane thoughts _at all_ was just proof that he was completely and utterly out of it. He was jet lagged. His system was in shock from breathing smog and jet fuel instead of desert air, from eating airline food instead of mess hall food. A hot shower and a nice long night’s sleep – _alone_ – at a Holiday Inn Express would set his mind back to normal.

“Hey, Buck, you okay?” Steve asked softly as he ran the backs of his knuckles along the side of Bucky’s leg. The touch was barely there yet warm and soothing in a way Bucky hadn’t felt in ages. He hazarded a glance out of the corner of his eye, and _goddamn_. There it was.

Those eyes, that look of utter fondness and reverence that only Steve could manage, that look that said Bucky was someone worth looking at. Worth spending time with. Worth taking a chance on.

“Yeah,” Bucky smiled. “I’m okay.”

 

* * *

 

“Fuck, this room is bigger than my apartment in Fairbanks!”

 _No, scratch that_ , Bucky thought to himself as he followed Steve inside. It wasn’t a room – it was a fucking palace. With multiple rooms. And a bar. That sofa was probably genuine leather. And Bucky would bet a year’s worth of hazard pay that if he walked into the bathroom he’d see some fancy glass walled shower and a marble tub big enough for two.

“I’m sorry. I know it’s a bit much,” Steve replied. “But it’s the only suite they had available.”

“Steve, this is… you didn’t have to do this.” Bucky threw his bags down and crossed the room, fighting the urge to take Steve into his arms. “Look, I live in a one-room studio over someone’s garage. That is, when I’m not sleeping in a tent in the desert. A plain old room with two double beds would’ve been fine.”

“And have your feet hang off the end? You know how short those beds are.” Steve shook his head, a smile tugging at his lips. “I couldn’t let that happen.”

Bucky smiled, giving up. Clearly throwing a grand (or two? It was hard to tell) away on a hotel room for a night meant nothing to Steve. And it was only one night, so Bucky might as well just enjoy it. “You’re right. Thank you.”

“So, food?”

“Actually,” Bucky sighed, the length of the day suddenly wearing on his shoulders, “I was thinking I might take a shower first. I think it’s been, like, 36 hours since I saw a bar of soap.”

Steve smirked. “Well, I didn’t want to say anything…”

“Asshole.”

“Just kidding. Knock yourself out. I was actually thinking of heading to the store around the corner to grab some munchies for later.”

Bucky feigned a frown. “I’m pretty sure I was promised room service.”

Steve huffed a laugh, and if Bucky wasn’t mistaken, also blushed slightly. “We can still do that. Absolutely. I just… I thought, you know, we’d need movie food. Like Doritos, and M&Ms. And beer.”

“Room service doesn’t have beer?”

“They do, it’ll just cost more.”

“Can’t you celebrity types, like, wave your magic wand and have things like that delivered, though?”

“It’s okay. I wanted to stretch my legs anyway.” Yeah, Steve was definitely blushing. There was more there than he was letting on. But hey, if he didn’t want some room service guy to know he liked Bud Light instead of some fancy designer beer, who was Bucky to say anything? “So, yeah. I’ll just be a minute,” Steve continued. “I’ll probably be back before you’re done showering.”

Bucky nodded. Steve grabbed the room key and left, stumbling over his own two feet as he exited the doorway. Bucky smiled; Steve was such a goofball.

But for now, he had 36 hours’ worth of travel grime to rid himself of. He filched through his bag, pulling out some sweats to change into, and headed for the bathroom.  The shower was extremely tempting; it was a thing of beauty, with multiple shower heads in all directions and a bench seat (and yep, glass walls). But that tub? Extra long and deep, with all those jets? That’s what was calling Bucky’s name.

He turned on the hot water full blast and began to strip. There was a selection of soaps and shampoos on the counter, so Bucky grabbed a few bottles of those and added their contents as well. Hey, it was free, so he might as well take advantage.

The water was scalding, and oh-so-perfect. Damn, when was the last time he had taken a bath? His one week of leave he’d gotten last year had been spent in Mumbai, which had been awesome, but his room had only had a shower, just like his studio in Fairbanks. It wasn’t as if he was a candles-and-bath-oils kind of guy, but he did enjoy a nice long soak occasionally. Bucky sank down until only his head was above water and sighed, leaning back against the rear of the tub. This was absolutely perfect.

As perfect as Steve’s ass. Steve’s shoulders in that Henley. Steve’s smile. Steve’s… oh god, everything about the man. Being close to him and being relegated to the friend zone, having to refrain from just reaching out and kissing him in the manner he deserved, was not easy. Bucky hadn’t realized just how much tension he’d been carrying over it until just now.

Fuck, he never should’ve thought about kissing Steve. His cock was now perking up and taking notice in anticipation of events that were never going to happen. He shouldn’t even contemplate what he was contemplating; how would he be able to walk out there and face Steve after jerking off thinking about him?

But how could he walk out there and face Steve fighting a hard-on the rest of the night?

Bucky wrapped his fingers around his erection, giving a few firm strokes. Picturing Steve above him, Steve underneath him, Steve’s breath hot on his neck as they moved together. He came hard, fighting to keep Steve’s name from escaping his lips in case the man had returned, and sank back, boneless and sated.

And promptly passed right the fuck out.

By the time he woke up, the water was lukewarm and the bubbles had long since disappeared, so Bucky quickly washed all the important bits before reluctantly climbing out and toweling off. He emerged to find Steve sprawled out on the sofa reading a script, various snacks and a half-finished beer scattered on the coffee table. “Stevie, my god. What’s your trainer gonna say about all this junk food?”

“You know, it turns out the calories don’t count when you’re stranded in Minneapolis because of a power outage in Atlanta. Who knew?” Steve held out the bag of Doritos toward Bucky.

“Well, in that case.” Bucky sat down and grabbed a handful of chips out of the bag. “How long was I in there?”

“About an hour. Guess you really needed a shower, huh?”

“Sorry.” Bucky smiled sheepishly. “Fell asleep in the tub.”

“Yeah, I figured it was something like that.” Steve cleared his throat. “It’s okay, you know, if you wanna hit the hay. You can take the bedroom; I’ll be fine here.”

“Nah, I’m fine now. Just hungry.”

“Oh, yeah. Sorry. Um, Room service?” Steve grabbed the menu and handed it over.

“Now you’re talking.”

“Anything you want. Seriously. Don’t look at the prices.”

Bucky barely registered the words on the page as he pretended to peruse the menu. He’d thought that, ahem, _taking care of himself_ would make the rest of the night less awkward, but now it only seemed more so. How could he sit here and look Steve in the eye when he had just imagined what Steve would look like coming down his throat? It would be one thing if he and Steve had even the remotest chance of being together one day, but that was clearly not the case here. This whole situation just reinforced the fact that Bucky and Steve barely knew each other.

“What looks good?” Steve elbowed him.

“Oh. Um.” Bucky glanced at the page and blurted out the first thing his eyes locked on. “Cheeseburger. I guess.”

“Sounds perfect. I’ll have one too.” Steve picked up the room’s phone and glanced back at Bucky. “Extra bacon, no veggies, lots of ketchup, right?”

It was silly. It was just a burger order, for fuck’s sake. It didn’t prove Steve knew him.

So why couldn’t Bucky stop smiling?

 

* * *

 

“My first date?” Bucky’s eyebrows hit his forehead at the question. “It’s not that interesting a story, really.”

They had long since finished their burgers and relocated to the bedroom; Steve maintained it was because the TV there was bigger, and Bucky couldn’t come up with a good argument otherwise. They weren’t even watching TV anymore, just talking. And now it seemed Steve was intent on slowly killing Bucky with this intense personal talk that would only make Bucky fall a little deeper down the rabbit hole and not be able to dig himself back out.

“Oh, come on.” Steve teased, lightly smacking Bucky on the knee. “I can’t imagine any date with you wouldn’t be interesting.”

Bucky ignored Steve’s comment. “I was 17. We had dinner at the food court in the mall, saw a movie that I can’t even remember the name of now, and took the subway home. Then Monday at school I found out from one of her friends that she was really in love with my friend Clint and was just using me to get to him. Which was a pretty stupid plan, because Clint and his wife started dating in the eighth grade and have been together ever since.”

“That doesn’t sound dull at all,” Steve smiled softly. “Dinner and a movie with you sounds perfect, if you ask me.”

 _So does that make this our first date?_ Bucky bit back. “What about you, then? First date?”

“Nah.” Steve turned away and grabbed his beer, taking a sip. “It’s not…”

“Not that interesting? Come on. It couldn’t be worse than my snooze-fest.”

“Okay, fine. I guess I brought it up.” Steve sighed. “I was pretty small in high school, kind of forgettable.”

Bucky was completely sure that was not the case; even as a smaller version of himself, Steve Rogers would never be forgettable.

“I was friends with this girl in my building, Peggy, and went to see her in the spring musical at her school, and I fell head over heels in love with the guy who played Harold Hill. I told Peggy, who told me he was gay too, and offered to set us up. We talked on the phone a few times, set up a date, but when I went to his place to pick him up his parents told me he was at school covering an event for the school paper.”

“He stood you up.” Bucky’s heart sank. _I would never do that to you. If I had a chance at a date with you I’d be there an hour early, I’d be so excited to be with you._ “Steve, I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t. It’s not your fault.”

“So what happened to him?”

“No idea.” Steve shrugged and took another sip of his beer. “Thank you, by the way.”

“For what?”

“For not spewing some placating bullshit about how he’s probably kicking himself, because ‘look at me now.’ Thank you.”

Bucky turned to face Steve, fighting with everything in him not to cradle Steve’s face in his hands. “Look, we may have only met today, but I know you well enough to know that whatever you are now, you didn’t do any of it because of some asshole who stood you up in high school. You did it for you. And fuck anybody who suggests otherwise, okay?”

Steve seemed to ponder Bucky’s words, turning them over and over in his head, before he spoke. “You know, I started doing drama club in junior high. It was the only place I’ve ever really felt like myself.”

“But… you don’t feel like yourself now?”

Steve lay back down onto the bed, huffing at the ceiling. “I don’t know. I did.”

“But?”

Steve rolled over on his side, facing Bucky. “There’s this script that’s been floating around for the past year. Sort of like _Before Sunrise_ – you know, with Ethan Hawke? – but with two male leads. Completely unlike anything I’ve ever read before.”

Bucky elbowed Steve. “You should do it.”

“But that’s the thing. No one wants to do it. It’s one of the most original scripts I’ve ever read, but no one will touch it.”

“Because it’s two guys?”

“Yeah, basically.”

“But that’s bullshit. There’s tons of LGBT movies nowadays. _Brokeback Mountain_ almost won Best Picture, didn’t it?”

“Yeah. I don’t know. Hollywood politics, I guess.” Steve flopped back over onto his back. “I pretty much gave up on it. But after today, it’s like… I can’t get that story out of my head.”

“So?” Bucky shrugged. ”Make it yourself.”

Steve laughed bitterly. “No way. People much more powerful than me haven’t been able to make it happen. Besides, I’m contracted out for the next year and a half. I barely have room for a day off, much less time to produce an LGBT independent. Once I get back to L.A., I’ll pretty much have no life.”

Bucky’s heart sank. Not that he’d been seriously entertaining thoughts of flying out to L.A. to possibly visit a new friend or anything _(Friend. Yeah right. Admit it, you wanna climb him like a tree_ ), but hearing Steve basically say out loud that it could never happen was rather crushing. He tried his best to mask his disappointment. “Wow. A year and a half. That’s a lot of projects, huh? Gotta strike while the iron is hot, I guess.”

“Yeah.” Steve didn’t sound too excited, though. He took a deep breath, frowns criss-crossing his face. “I guess you’re right. I should look at it that way. It’s just, after Mom, I…”

Steve trailed off. He didn’t have to finish that thought, though. Bucky knew what Steve didn’t say. _I couldn’t bear the thought of being alone, so I’m gonna stay busy instead_. Bucky rolled over, throwing an arm over Steve, hugging him. “I understand. And look, if you ever need a friend, someone to send crazy text messages to at three in the morning while you’re filming in Kandahar or wherever, you got me.”

Steve wrapped his hand around Bucky’ arm and just held on, eventually letting his head drop down against Bucky’s. So it may not have been the relationship Bucky had been hoping for with this man, but it seemed that friendship really was what Steve needed most right now.

So that’s what Bucky was going to give him.

“Thanks, Buck,” Steve whispered.

 

* * *

 

“So, enough about me.” Steve pulled away, taking his warmth with him, and cracked open two more beers, handing one to Bucky. “What are your plans now, since I have a feeling you won’t actually be sitting on a street corner begging for change?”

Bucky took a long drag off his bottle. “I don’t know, to be honest. Buddy of mine talked about hiking the Appalachian trail when we got out, but I’m not so sure. I like hiking, and camping, but doing it all day every day for 6 months straight? Not so much.”

“So? Do part of the trail. That still sounds pretty amazing.”

“I was actually thinking of maybe driving across the country, hitting all the major national parks, doing some camping here and there. But also with, you know, the occasional hotel.”

“Yes. Beds and showers are nice, I hear.”

“Yeah,” Bucky laughed. “But I’m still undecided. I don’t know.”

“About which part?”

Bucky hemmed and hawed, finally deciding to fuck it. Steve had confessed something he’d been internalizing; it was only fair that Bucky did the same. Since they were friends and all. “Does it seem a little selfish to you to take 6 months off to do nothing but drive around the country?”

Steve sat up with a jolt. “After being in a war zone for a year and a half? Shit, no. Buck, PTSD is a real thing. And if this is what you think you need to decompress from all the shit you’ve seen, then do it. You shouldn’t let anyone make you feel bad for doing what’s best for you.”

“That’s the thing, though. I mean, I’m an officer, or at least I was. I wasn’t the one doing and seeing the worst of it.”

“Buck, just because there’s someone else out there that’s had it worse than you doesn’t negate your experience.” Steve put his hand on Bucky’s knee. “At least think about it. Seriously.”

“Yeah. Okay.” Bucky still wasn’t convinced, but for Steve, he’d at least think about it. “I don’t have a car, though,” he added lamely.

Steve laughed. “You know, I hear you can buy those nowadays.”

“And what about you? If I’m driving across the country camping in some park somewhere I won’t be available for 3 a.m. texting.”

“Well, then, you’ll just have to reply to my crazy ramblings when you’re back in range.” Steve pulled his hand away, giving Bucky’s knee a light smack, and rolled over, swinging his legs off the edge of the bed. “Just promise me, okay?” Steve added, glancing back at Bucky. “Promise me you’ll at least think about it.”

“Fine.” Bucky scooted up to the edge of the bed and sat next to Steve, daring to let their knees touch. “As long as you promise me that you’ll think about trying to get that movie made.”

“Buck,” Steve sighed, twisting away. “I can’t. This is my job. I wish I could, but I have people counting on me.”

Bucky laid his hand on Steve’s shoulder. “I don’t care about those other people. I care about you. You’re my friend, Steve, and you’ve been through something pretty traumatic too. _You_ need to decompress.”

Steve’s eyes began to well up, his lip trembling. “Plenty of people have lost parents, or spouses, or children. They kept going. I should too.”

“Yeah, and just because someone else out there has had it worse than you, doesn’t negate your experience. You just lost your mother, Steve. It’s okay to take some time and mourn.”

Steve held it together for all of 3 seconds before he collapsed. Bucky pulled him in, and Steve sobbed into his lap, finally letting out everything Bucky suspected he’d been holding in all these weeks, trying his best to be strong in front of everyone else because he had to be unlucky enough to lose someone close to him with the entire world watching. Bucky stroked his hair, his back, his arms, anything he could reach, trying his best to give Steve whatever measure of comfort he could.

“I just miss her so much,” Steve said weakly when the sobs began to subside.

“I know, Steve. I know,” Bucky murmured, wishing his words were enough.

“By the time I got there she was already on life support. I had to say goodbye to my mom while some machine kept her alive.”

“She heard you. Steve, she heard you.”

Steve just lay there and held onto Bucky for dear life.

 

***

 

_I play my hand_

_You call my bluff_

_We push each other_

_‘Til we’ve had enough_

_When it’s all you’ve got_

_Call it love_

_***_

 

Bucky channel surfed while Steve took his turn in the shower. After the heaviness of the last hour’s conversation, they needed a little levity. When Steve finally emerged, wearing track pants and a too-tight t-shirt and looking like sex on a stick ( _inappropriate, asshole, the guy just cried in your lap over his dead mother, can you not get a boner over him for, like, 3 seconds?),_ Bucky found it. He grabbed the bag of Doritos off the floor and settled back against the headboard, legs stretched out in front of himself, pointedly ignoring the walking wet dream that was still probably dripping right next to him.

“ _The Princess Bride_?”  Steve remarked as he toweled off his hair. “I haven’t seen this in ages!”

“Wait, don’t tell me you actually like this movie?” Bucky asked.

“You mean you don’t?” Steve gaped. “What is wrong with you?”

“No, I do. I think this movie is goddamn genius. I just can’t believe we’ve finally found something we agree on.”

“Good. Because if you told me you didn’t like this movie, I’d have to kick you out.”

Bucky grinned. “Good thing I’m a huge fan, then.”

Steve tossed the towel onto a nearby chair and plopped down next to Bucky, grabbing a handful of Doritos out of the bag. “You know, I never would’ve pegged you for a romance movie fan after your diatribe against _When Harry Met Sally_.”

“Hey, I have nothing against romance. I just think it needs to be balanced out with a little revenge and some swordfighting.”

Steve furrowed his brow for a moment then collapsed into laughter, that full bodied laugh where he threw his head back and flailed a limb or two in the process. What Bucky would’ve given to get caught in the crossfire, to have Steve touch him again, even if it was accidental laughter- related contact. “What’s so funny?” he had to ask.

“I’m sorry,” Steve said. “I was just trying to picture Billy Crystal and Meg Ryan duking it out with swords.”

Bucky giggled. “Bet that would’ve made Pictionary more interesting, huh?”

Steve stopped, narrowing his eyes at Bucky.

“What?” Bucky asked.

“You _have_ seen _When Harry Met Sally_ , haven’t you? Admit it.”

Bucky flicked his eyes back to the screen and grabbed another Dorito from the bag. “I never said I hadn’t seen it. I just thought it was sappy and stupid.”

“No. Uh-uh.” Steve shook his head. “I call bullshit. You secretly love it, don’t you? Bucky Barnes, closet romantic.”

“Am not. I’m world-weary and cynical.”

“And yet you chose a movie about true love for us to watch while we’re stranded here. See? You are a romantic. I can tell.”

Bucky glanced sideways at Steve, willing himself to breathe as their eyes locked. What was he supposed to say to Steve’s comment? That indulging his romantic side had never made much sense before the Army because his priority was his career? That it made even less sense in the desert because his priority was survival? That being hit by that sniper and damn near coming face to face with his maker while coughing up a lungful of blood made him realize that his priorities had been completely ass-backwards?

That when he looked at Steve he saw everything that had been missing in his life, someone who could fill the cracks he’d never even realized were there before that moment he’d tripped over his own bag in the airport?

That he actually _was_ a romantic, but there was no way in hell he could admit it out loud to the one person who made him feel things he'd never realized he could feel, because in less than twelve hours they were gonna say goodbye and probably never see each other again anyway?

Steve broke eye contact first, clearing his throat and jumping out of the bed. “I’m, uh, I’m gonna go grab the M&Ms. This is more of a chocolate movie than a Doritos movie, don’t you think? Yeah. And maybe something from the minibar. Shots. We definitely need shots.”

_Great, Barnes. Fucking perfect. You scared him off. Now he thinks you’re some creepy asshole who stares._

Steve returned with a large bag of plain M&Ms and a handful of bottles from the minibar, and tossed them on the bed in between himself and Bucky. “Okay, movie rules. Every time someone says ‘inconceivable,’ take a drink.”

Bucky picked up a miniature bottle of whisky and tipped it toward Steve in a mock toast. “As you wish.”

“Ooh! That’s a good one. Add that to the list!”

“You trying to get me drunk, Rogers?”

“Ah, you discovered my master plan. Get you drunk and have my wicked way with you.”

Bucky laughed. “You realize there’s a huge flaw in your plan, right?”

“Which is?”

“They really only say ‘inconceivable’ in the first thirty minutes of the movie.”

“Ah. Well, we’ll just have to come up with another reason to drink. Like sheer discomfort over the yucky kissing bits.”

Bucky just smiled and turned back to the movie. No way was he touching that comment. Steve settled in next to him, shuffling around and adjusting the pillow behind his back, eventually slumping against the headboard with a contented sigh. His shoulder was right there next to Bucky’s head; all Bucky would have to do would be to lean over the slightest little bit to rest his head on that perfect teardrop of muscle. He’d be able to feel every rise and fall of Steve’s breath, every shake of laughter.

Instead he’d just have to settle for watching Steve out of the corner of his eye and try to ignore how freaking adorable the guy was when he laughed and his eyes squinted almost shut, how completely unfair it was that he got that sad little wistful smile on his face every time Westley and Buttercup kissed ( _stop thinking about what Steve would taste like if you kissed him_ ), or how much he’d like to run his fingers across those abs that rippled every time Steve freaking breathed, because thoughts like that wouldn’t lead anywhere constructive.

Steve shoved a bag of something in front of his face. “Want some M&Ms?”

Jesus Christ, even the man’s hands were perfect.

Bucky sighed and grabbed a handful. It was gonna be a long night.

 

* * *

 

The movie had ended, but Bucky honestly had no idea what was currently showing on the TV right now, because he had long since started mentally reciting states and capitals to avoid thinking about the fact that he was pretty sure Steve wasn’t wearing underwear beneath those track pants.

“Hey. Um, Bucky?”

 _What the fuck is the fucking the capital of Iowa again?_ Fuck it. It didn’t matter anymore. Because Bucky really just needed to go crash on the couch, go to the airport tomorrow, fly home to Alaska, and forget this whole day happened.“Yeah?”

“I just wanted, um, I wanted to say thank you,” Steve said.

“For what?”

“For everything. For tonight.” Steve glanced at Bucky out of the corner of his eye for a moment, then looked back at his lap. “And, you know, for not making this awkward.”

That got Bucky’s attention. “Awkward?”

“You know. After what I said at the airport earlier.”

Yeah, he remembered Steve’s awkward sharing-a-room request. Bucky had finally successfully pushed it to the back of his mind after the weight of their earlier conversation. Steve hadn’t really meant what he’d said anyway; he’d just gotten a little tongue-tied in that so endearingly Steve way of his.

“It’s okay,” Steve continued. “It’s okay that you don’t feel the same way. I just, I wanted you to know how much I enjoyed tonight. I needed this. And if it’s okay, I really would like to keep in touch after this. I’d like to stay friends.”

There was that word again. _Friends_. Bucky wanted that too, he really did. Despite his feelings, he knew what he and Steve had was a connection like he'd felt with no one else. He could definitely picture staying in touch long after this night was over. Of course, it was far more likely that they’d part in the morning and never see each other again, but it was nice to think about all the same. Because honestly, given Bucky’s joblessness and Steve’s insanely busy schedule for the next eighteen months, Bucky could pretty much predict how things would go. They’d play phone tag for a few weeks, trade a few text messages, then Steve would get wrapped up in filming some movie, and…

“Wait.” Bucky stopped. “It’s okay I don’t feel the same way?”

“Yeah. I just wanted you to know that... I consider you a friend, a real friend, and I don’t want to do anything to jeopardize that. Like lying to you about my feelings for you. But it’s okay; I know you don’t feel the same, and I can accept that. I just want you in my life, Buck. However that is.”

For the second time since he’d met Steve, Bucky felt his entire world tilt on its axis. Steve kept rambling, but all Bucky heard was an endless loop of _he wants me too, he wants me too, he wants me too_. Bucky had been prepared to walk away from this crazy connection that he’d felt with this man, telling himself that it was completely one-sided. But now? Steve’s confession confused things.

“Buck, would you say something?”

Bucky harbored no delusions about what was going to happen beyond this night. Steve would go back to his movie star life and Bucky would move in to Clint and Nat’s spare bedroom and spend the next six months looking for a job. And if he kept his mouth shut and went to bed right fucking now like he knew he should, that’s _all_ that would happen. Tonight would just fade into distant memory; Steve would just be that guy he’d met that one night. _Oh, yeah, him. I vaguely remember that guy. I wonder what he’s up to these days?_

Or he could give in, tell Steve how he felt. How all he wanted was to wake up next to Steve and share morning kisses and lazy Sundays in bed reading the paper, how he wanted to spend every day arguing with Steve about every little mundane thing like what to have for lunch or what to watch on Netflix, how he wanted to visit all of his favorite free New York places and see if they were better with Steve by his side.

How he’d fallen for Steve pretty much the moment they’d met.

And Bucky knew, he _knew_ that giving in would feel really fucking great. He and Steve had had this amazing chemistry from the moment they’d first spoken, and it had only magnified in the hours since. Bucky could feel it, the potential energy that threatened to detonate every time their eyes locked. But to kiss Steve? Have sex with Steve? That would be like a goddamn supernova.

But one that Bucky would only get to experience once (and yeah, he knew Steve promised a relationship that extended beyond this night, but Bucky wasn’t going to kid himself). Then he’d spend the rest of his life looking back on that one perfect day and one perfect night he’d had with that one perfect man. And wasn’t that a laugh? The perfect man and the jobless bum. What a pair.

But fuck, if Steve didn’t keep looking at Bucky like he was Steve’s whole world, jobless bum or not.

Bucky wanted to be worthy of that look, even if he was probably never going to see it again.

“You’re wrong,” he said at last.

“I’m wrong?”

“Yeah. You’re wrong.”

“About what?”

Bucky lifted his gaze slowly toward Steve, his breath catching in his throat as their eyes locked. “About me not feeling the same way. You’re wrong.”

Steve looked at Bucky for a moment, his brow furrowing the tiniest little bit as he waited for the lie in Bucky’s words to be revealed. But Bucky was done lying. He was done lying to himself about the depth of his feelings for this man in front of him, and he was done lying to Steve about only wanting to be friends.

Bucky placed a tentative hand on Steve’s neck, his fingers resting against the rapid fire of Steve’s pulse. Steve exhaled shakily, a tiny whimper in his breath as they drew closer. Then at long last Bucky closed the last few remaining millimeters between them, his entire being igniting in a flash of electricity as their lips finally touched. Steve immediately opened to him with a quiet moan, gently licking into Bucky’s mouth, cradling Bucky’s face in his hands like he was worried Bucky would pull away. As if there was anywhere Bucky would rather be right now than kissing Steve, tasting the chocolate on Steve’s tongue, feeling the gentle tug of Steve’s hands in his hair.

But it was Steve who pulled away instead, leaning his forehead against Bucky’s as he gasped to catch his breath. “So, you’re saying…?”

Bucky nodded, moving to recapture Steve’s lips. “Yes. I am.”

“Okay, good. Just checking,” Steve grinned, closing the distance between them once more.

 

* * *

 

Fuck, Steve was a good kisser. It was like he had some secret insight into everything Bucky had always enjoyed and was running down the list line by fiery line. Then before Bucky even knew what was happening Steve was sliding down the bed, pulling Bucky with him until Bucky was fully straddling him, their bodies completely in line from cranium to cock. And oh Jesus, how exquisite Steve’s cock felt against his own. Steve must’ve agreed, because he grabbed two handfuls of Bucky’s ass and pulled him in closer, ratcheting things up further.

It was all too much. Jesus, it was too much too fast. Bucky raised up onto his knees, much to Steve’s frustration if the irritated grunt that escaped his lips was any indication. He had to slow things down, since it was pretty clear now where they were headed, or this was gonna be over before they’d even started. And with all of Steve Rogers laid out like a buffet below him, there were so many other areas he could focus on while the heat in his groin cooled off. Like those two little twin moles on the side of Steve’s neck. That seemed like a good place to start.

Bucky sucked sloppy kisses to Steve’s neck, tasting each mole in turn, until Steve was beginning to tremble beneath him, silently begging for more.  He slid down and pulled at the hem of Steve’s shirt, and Steve raised up enough for Bucky to remove the offending fabric. Bucky pulled his own shirt off in one fluid motion, tossing it onto the floor as he turned his attention back toward Steve and the matter of which part he was going to taste next.

Steve placed a hand on Bucky’s chest, gently stilling him. He fingered the small sunburst left behind in the wake of the sniper’s bullet, still pink and tender from recent healing. “You were shot?”

Bucky nodded. “Sniper. Few months ago.”

“Buck,” he breathed, brow furrowing as his eyes darted between Bucky’s own and the scar.

Bucky placed his hand over Steve’s. “It’s okay. I’m here,” he murmured. “I’m okay.”

Steve grabbed Bucky’s shoulders and pulled him back down, kissing him fiercely as they once again began to move together. Bucky would not be dissuaded from his plan to explore every inch of skin laid out beneath him, however. He only had one night, and there was so much more of Steve he needed to taste, and right fucking now. He slid down Steve’ torso, leaving a trail of kisses in his path.

“Oh God, Buck,” Steve moaned as Bucky tongued his nipple. “Fuck, that feels good.”

Bucky loved the way his name sounded coming out of Steve’s mouth, all wanton and desperate. He needed more of those sounds. “What do you want?” he whispered against Steve’s skin. “Tell me what you want, Steve.”

“I want you,” Steve breathed. “God, Buck, I want you inside me.”

Bucky dropped his forehead to Steve’s chest and took several deep breaths, willing himself not to come on the spot from Steve’s words. Yes, he'd wanted exactly that since the moment he’d first locked eyes with Steve, but hearing his fantasy echoed in Steve’s voice? Fuck, he had to find a way to keep it together.

“Is that okay?” Steve asked, a trace of timidity in his voice. “Too much? We don’t have to. This is good too.”

Bucky looked up at Steve, traced his fingers along Steve’s hairline and around the shell of his ear. “You really want me to fuck you?”

Steve shivered under his touch. “Yeah.”

Bucky glanced to the side, trying to figure out the most tactful way to broach the next part of subject, and sighed. He wanted that too, fuck did he ever, but it wasn’t as if he’d planned for this to happen either. “You know, I, um… I didn’t exactly come prepared… for this.”

A blush spread across Steve’s cheeks and he nodded toward the nightstand. “Check the top drawer.”

Bucky leaned over and pulled the nightstand drawer open, removing a box of condoms and a small bottle of lube. “Um, Steve? When did, uh…?”

Steve’s blush deepened, spreading down his chest as he looked away shyly. “I, um, _Imayhaveboughtthoseearlerwhileyouwereinthetub_.”

“Excuse me?” Bucky asked, fighting back a grin. Goddamn, Steve was adorable like this, all flushed and flustered.

“Earlier. While you were taking a bath and I went to the store to buy beer and stuff. I um, I bought those too,” he stammered.

Bucky smiled slyly as everything slotted fully into place. “So is that why you were so nervous when you left to go buy snacks? Because you were actually going to buy condoms and lube?”

“Yes,” Steve admitted.

“Because you want me?” Bucky smirked at Steve. Yeah, he knew he was being a bit of a shit by challenging Steve, but for fuck’s sake, Steve should not be embarrassed about buying condoms because he wanted to have sex with somebody. Maybe that was the reality of Steve’s life, but that didn’t mean that Bucky had to play by those rules. Or that Steve did, for that matter. Fuck those rules. “Because you find me so irresistible?”

A slow smirk spread across Steve’s face, and _that’s_ what Bucky wanted to see – Steve confident and comfortable in his own skin again. “You weren’t exactly playing fair,” Steve shrugged. “Those fatigues you had on? Totally cheating.”

“Uniform kink, huh? Good to know,” Bucky laughed. “So, you want me to go get dressed again?”

“Jerk.” Steve laughed and pushed Bucky over. “Shut up and take your pants off already.”

“Bossy. I like it.”

 

* * *

 

Bucky climbed off of Steve and slid his sweat pants and boxers down one tantalizing inch at a time, watching Steve’s eyes darken as he revealed the jut of his hipbones, the dark swathe of pubic hair, his erection standing proud and rigid. He cocked an eyebrow at Steve and waited for Steve to return the favor.

“Well, that answers my earlier question,” Bucky remarked once Steve was fully naked, erection pointing gloriously upward.

Steve lay back down, spreading himself out on the bed like a goddamn feast, and wrapped a hand around himself, stroking lazily. “What question was that?”

“Whether you had underwear on underneath those pants.” He climbed back onto Steve’s lap and swatted Steve’s hand away, replacing it with his own. “You know how goddamn distracting you were wearing those things? I was sitting here reciting states and capitals just to keep from coming in my pants.”

“Steven Spielberg movies,” Steve moaned as Bucky’s hand continued to trace lightly along the length of Steve’s cock, not quite giving Steve what he so desperately needed. “Goddammit, Bucky.”

“You want more, Stevie?”

“Fuck, yes.”

“You always curse this much?”

“When my partner’s being a goddamn cocktease? Absolutely.”

“Well, we can’t have that, can we?” Bucky lay down on his side next to Steve, maneuvering his lover so that they were lying on their sides face to face with Steve’s thigh up over his hip. He grabbed the bottle of lube, slicked his fingers up, and traced them around Steve’s rim. “Okay if I keep kissing you while we do this?”

“Fuck yes, you’d better,” Steve answered against his lips, his sigh breaking into a moan as Bucky’s finger breached him. They kissed for long minutes, Bucky slowly stretching Steve open, until Bucky was three fingers deep and Steve was a writhing mess, practically fucking himself on Bucky’s hand.

“How do you want me, Steve?” Bucky whispered into Steve’s skin as he traced his lips along Steve’s neck. “Tell me what you want.”

“Face to face,” Steve moaned. “Wanna keep kissing you.”

“Thank god,” Bucky smiled as he reached for the condoms. “Because I think it’s a goddamn tragedy that we haven’t been doing that since the moment we met.”

“Well, I was perfectly willing as soon as you grabbed my dick in the airport.”

Bucky chuckled as he knelt over Steve and rolled the condom on. “Well, in my defense, it _is_ a nice dick.”

Steve spread his hands and gestured to the member in question. “Yeah, and it’s kinda wishing you’d pay it a little more attention. You’ve been mostly ignoring it ever since.”

“You always this bossy in bed?” Bucky asked as he settled himself between Steve’s legs.

“You always this mu… huh…” Steve began, his words dissolving into a lengthy moan as Bucky finally pushed inside him. “Oh, god.”

“You okay?” Bucky asked, searching Steve’s eyes for any trace of discomfort.

Steve nodded, taking a slow, deep breath through his nose. “Give me a sec. Been a while.”

Bucky peppered Steve’s jaw with soothing kisses as Steve continued to relax, trying his best to ignore how those words tore straight through his heart. That Bucky would be the one this beautiful man chose to let into his heart, into his body, however brief their time together – it was overwhelming. He’d known deep down that this wasn’t just sex, but fuck. This wasn’t just sex, was it?

Steve cradled Bucky’s face in his hands and pulled him in for a kiss, deep and searching. His hands roamed, learning the contours of Bucky’s back as they kissed until he finally grabbed two handfuls of Bucky’s ass, pulling Bucky deeper inside him. Bucky took the hint and began moving.

He leaned over until their bodies were completely flush, Steve’s gorgeous erection trapped between them. Bucky traced his lips along the shell of Steve’s ear, letting his hot breath ghost over the sensitive skin there. He had to, and not just because Steve’s ears were some otherworldly sort of delectable. He had to because if he spent one more moment staring into Steve’s stormy blue eyes, he was going to get caught up in the vortex and drown.

He wanted to tell Steve all those things lovers say to each other. He wanted to tell Steve how beautiful he was, but Steve probably heard that every day from strangers on the street, so much so that it had likely ceased to mean anything. But those people didn’t know Steve like Bucky knew Steve – would never know how his skin tasted, the scent of him as he began to perspire with the exertion of sex, the sounds he made as he gasped and chanted Bucky’s name.

But Steve wasn’t just beautiful for those things; it was so much more than that. It was a million tiny things that Bucky had been collecting all day long – little snippets of conversation, secret smiles and inside jokes and shared experiences. _They_ made Steve beautiful. But Bucky couldn’t say that, couldn’t look into Steve’s eyes and say what he really wanted ( _God, Steve, you’re so beautiful, I wish we could do this forever_ ) because that’s not what you said to someone you were never going to see again.

Steve was beginning to grab and claw at Bucky’s back as they moved in tandem, his breath coming in short, high-pitched gasps. Bucky could tell Steve was getting close, but dammit he didn’t want this to end just yet. And fuck if Steve didn’t deserve a goddamn spectacular time, if it had indeed been that long. Bucky raised up just slightly until his abs were no longer stroking against Steve’s cock and slowed his pace until he was barely moving inside Steve.

“Oh, shit. You bastard.” Steve whined. “Do you just live to torture me?”

“You figured out my master plan. Torture you with great sex,” Bucky chuckled darkly against Steve’s neck.

“Great sex usually includes orgasms.” Steve threaded his fingers through Bucky’s hair as he spoke, sending shivers down Bucky’s spine. “Which I was well on my way to when you so rudely stopped fucking me.”

“We’ll get there.” Bucky couldn’t stand being apart from that gorgeous mouth any longer; he leaned back in and captured Steve’s lips in a soft kiss. “I’m enjoying you. Don’t you want this to last?”

Steve buried his face in Bucky’s shoulder and just breathed for a moment, finally placing a soft kiss on the muscle there. “I don’t ever want this to end,” he whispered.

And that was it, Bucky was done for. He kissed Steve as he began thrusting in earnest again. He _had_ to kiss Steve or Steve would see all over his face just how much those words broke him. But somewhere in Steve’s kiss was a promise, too. A promise that this wouldn’t end when they said goodbye tomorrow.

He was past the point of no return now, couldn’t stop thrusting into Steve if he tried. They were both gasping for air now as they raced to climax, broken off syllables and cries of ecstasy filling the room along with the filthy sounds of their frantic fucking. Bucky wanted Steve to finish first, _needed_ him to finish first. Steve was close again, Bucky could tell, his voice once again coming in those gorgeous high-pitched gasps that would haunt Bucky’s dreams.

“You gonna come for me, baby?”

“I’m close,” Steve panted. “Fuck, I’m close. I just need…”

Bucky raised up, intending to maneuver Steve into a deeper angle to push him over the edge. But once he pulled back enough to lock eyes with his lover, Steve cried out, his face twisted in sweet ecstasy as his orgasm tore through him. God, he was beautiful like this. Bucky followed a split second later, the sight of Steve coming too much for him to hold his orgasm back any longer.

 

* * *

 

“You know, I gotta admit, that’s not how I thought things would go after I told you it’s okay you weren’t interested,” Steve said as he traced imaginary shapes against Bucky’s chest.

Bucky laughed. “That was a pretty effective line, I gotta say.”

Steve mock-slapped him. “It wasn’t a line, jerk. I was practically throwing myself at you all day, like an idiot, and you were completely oblivious.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I guess I was.”

Steve smiled as he leaned over Bucky, his lips just a hair’s breadth away from Bucky’s own. “For the record, I think I fell for you the moment I saw you running down the terminal. You were so beautiful, so confident. And when you sat down next to me? I almost couldn’t breathe.”

Bucky could feel his heart cracking with those words. His heart, which he’d kept buried in cement all these years, was now exposed, free to shatter into a million tiny pieces. It made him think of that stuff he'd seen in Japan – _kintsugi_ , it was called. Broken pottery whose cracks had been repaired and filled with gold. According to Japanese philosophy, an object’s flaws made it all the more beautiful, and should be highlighted. Illuminated. Bucky had never fully understood that philosophy until he’d met Steve.

Bucky knew that in more ways than one he was broken, but so was Steve. Maybe they could knit each other back together again.

“I think I fell for you the moment I fell in your lap,” Bucky finally admitted with a smile.

Steve laughed and settled back into his previous position, draped over Bucky’s side. “That was one of the more unusual ways I’ve ever met someone.”

“But not the most unusual? Damn. And here I thought my smooth moves would be more memorable.” Bucky slipped his arm around Steve’s back, running his fingertips lightly along the contours of Steve’s muscles.

“Bucky?”

“Yeah?”

“Stop talking.”

“Hey, you st…” Bucky didn’t get to finish his argument, however, as Steve cut him off with a kiss, filthy and full of promise.

They didn’t get to sleep for at least another hour.

 

***

_If I didn’t have money_

_Would you want me still_

_When you look real close_

_Do we fit the bill_

_Call it what you want_

_But only time will tell_

***

 

The alarm went off way too early, but Bucky was strangely okay with it because it meant that he was waking up with Steve in his arms. And yeah, they only had a few rushed hours left together, but that was just for today. Not forever. Bucky didn’t know what the future held for him and Steve, but he did know that there would at least be a future for them. They’d figure it out. Make their own rules.

He reached back to the nightstand and shut off the alarm clock. “Mmm. Morning, handsome,” he murmured against Steve’s neck as he burrowed back under the covers and tightened his arms around Steve once more.

Steve rolled over and kissed Bucky. “Good morning.” He was adorable, hair all mussed and voice sleep-roughened.

“So. Shower or breakfast?”

Steve carded his fingers through Bucky’s hair. “How much time do we have?”

“About an hour and a half before we have to head to the airport.”

Steve pushed Bucky onto his back and slid down along his torso, sliding his boxers down. “Then we can decide a little later,” he growled, taking Bucky into his mouth.

 

* * *

 

Shit, Steve’s mouth was wicked in all the best ways. For someone who didn’t have a lot of experience, he’d figured out all of Bucky’s buttons pretty quickly. Or maybe he did have experience and just kept it on the down low. Or hell, maybe it had just been that long since Bucky had had a blow job that anything would have felt incredible.

Or maybe it was just Steve.

Regardless, Steve’s mouth and Bucky’s cock were a combination clearly divined by the gods, and far be it from Bucky to split them up. But heaven help him, he was about to say goodbye to Steve in a matter of hours, and Bucky wanted to take full advantage of their last precious minutes together.

“Steve. Steve, wait.” Oh god, it pained Bucky to have Steve pull off when he was getting so close. He took a few deep breaths to get himself back under control. “Want you in me. Wanna come around your cock.”

“Are you sure?” Steve asked, positively sinful with his swollen lips still hovering just millimeters from the head of Bucky’s dick, hand still wrapped around the base.

“Yeah.” Bucky reached over to the nightstand to grab the lube and a condom, grinning as he tossed the items toward the foot of the bed. “And hurry it up, will you? I ain’t got all day.”

“Bossy, bossy.” Steve lubed up his fingers and pressed one in without preamble, followed a moment later by another. He idly stroked Bucky’s cock while working him open, not giving him nearly enough to get him off, but just enough that Bucky was a writhing, panting mess in a matter of minutes.

“Steve, please,” Bucky begged.

“You ready for me, baby?”

“Fuck, yes. Just get in me, asshole.”

Steve chuckled darkly as he withdrew his fingers and rolled the condom on. Bucky waited for the intrusion, but it didn’t come. He glanced up at Steve questioningly.

“Do you trust me”? Steve asked, a slight puzzled frown crossing his face. “I wanna try something,”

“Yeah,” Bucky nodded. “Of course.”

“Roll over.”

Bucky did as Steve asked, then found himself manhandled onto all fours. Steve pushed himself inside without warning, earning a groan from both men. He remained stilled, fully seated inside Bucky, not moving. It felt amazing, but Bucky was ready for more. “Oh, god, you feel so good,” he cried out, letting his head fall forward onto the mattress. “So good, Stevie. You can move now.”

But instead of thrusting with wild abandon like Bucky expected, Steve reached both arms underneath Bucky’s chest, grabbed securely, and pulled Bucky upright in one smooth lift until they were flush against one another, Bucky’s back to Steve’s chest.

“Oh, fuck, that’s hot,” Bucky groaned. Steve’s arms were wrapped around him, squeezing him like a vise. It took Bucky’s breath away in the best of ways.

“I’ve always wanted to do it like this,” Steve murmured in Bucky’s ear, nibbling at his earlobe as he pulled back and began thrusting. Bucky was helpless to do little more than just kneel there against Steve and take it. It was different than anything he had ever experienced, not being able to see Steve or look in his azure eyes to see the flashes of pleasure, but it was awfully intimate, being held in Steve’s arms like this as they rocked together.

Maybe it was the fact that he couldn’t see Steve that made it so much hotter. Maybe it was the way Steve held him, hands splayed across Bucky’s chest and belly, stroking his fingers against spots Bucky had never known to be so sensitive. Maybe it was the way Steve whimpered against his neck with every thrust, like being with Bucky was too much to handle.

They couldn’t get much leverage in this position, but god, the angle Steve was hitting him with every thrust was fucking perfect. Bucky found himself teetering on the edge in no time, and wrapped a hand around his cock to seal the deal.

“Ah ah ah,” Steve chided, grabbing Bucky’s wrist and pulling his hand away. Bucky groaned at the loss of contact, but was groaning for entirely other reasons a moment later when Steve gripped both of Bucky’s hands in his own and wrapped them back around Bucky’s chest. Bucky was helpless, completely at Steve’s mercy, and fuck, was that hot.

“You gonna come with me, baby?” Steve murmured in his ear. “Come on my cock?”

Bucky tried to answer, but was no longer able to form words. He hoped Steve was close, because he didn’t think he’d be able to hold himself off if he’d wanted to. With Steve behind him, wrapped around him, inside him, everywhere at once, he was powerless to stop himself from coming, and when Steve closed his teeth over Bucky’s earlobe and bit down that was it. A raw, animalistic cry burst forth from Bucky’s lungs as he convulsed with the intensity of his orgasm. Steve followed him a moment later, desperately chanting Bucky’s name as he spilled his release.

They collapsed onto the bed together, a sweaty, sated mess. “Steve,” Bucky panted. “Holy shit.”

“Exactly,” Steve echoed.

“So, shower? Start packing?”

“Yeah. We probably should.”

Bucky rolled over toward Steve and gave him a long, lingering kiss on the lips. “But then again, I barely unpacked to begin with.”

“Oh, thank god.” Steve grabbed Bucky by the ass and pulled him flush. “Me too.”

 

* * *

 

It was bittersweet, gathering his stuff to head back to the airport. He and Steve had only been in the suite for fifteen hours or so, but still. Bucky was gonna miss this place. This was where he and Steve had shared their first time together, after all. And their second. And third. And that fourth time in the shower just now. He smiled to himself. They’d been pretty busy for such a short amount of time. Bucky picked up his cell phone for a moment and contemplated it; maybe he should take a picture of this place. You know, for posterity or whatever.

“Oh, yeah.” Steve handed his phone to Bucky. “Put your number in. So I can call you later for round five.”

“I think I’m gonna need to sleep for a week to recover from that last time,” Bucky smirked as he typed. “And thank you for that, by the way. You do realize I have a 6 hour flight ahead of me? In coach? I just hope to God there’s no turbulence.”

“It was worth it, though, huh?” Steve pocketed his phone and snuggled in behind Bucky, hooking his chin over Bucky’s shoulder as he snaked his arms around Bucky’s middle. “Remembering how your legs felt wrapped around me as you scream my name will be all I’ll be able to think about until I see you again.”

Bucky was _not_ getting hard again. “And I’m gonna watch The Howling Commandos on the plane, thinking about you pinning me against the shower wall with those biceps.”

“All that working out has to be good for something, right?”

“See, I knew you weren’t doing all those bicep curls just for that movie.” Bucky pulled away and gave Steve a peck on the lips. He would love nothing more than to stand here and relive everything they’d done, but unfortunately the outside world awaited. Life beyond these walls went on, and Bucky and Steve had to rejoin it.

They’d be rejoining it together, though. Separated by 3,000 miles, but together. The distance was just a detail.

Bucky turned to grab his bag and head out the door, but he was stopped by Steve, who grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him back in for another embrace. There was much less heat in Steve’s arms this time, more melancholy.  Bucky tightened his arms around Steve as he realized what this was. They were saying their goodbyes now, because they wouldn’t be able to once they stepped out of the safety of their hotel room sanctuary.

“I will call you, okay?” Steve sniffled. “I can’t promise every night or anything, but I will call you. I want this, okay? With you. I want this. I don’t know how…”

“We’ll figure it out,” Bucky interrupted, murmuring against Steve’s cheek. “I know your life is crazy busy. I know what I’m getting myself into, okay? And you’re worth it.”

Steve just hugged Bucky tighter. “I’ll be filming all over the globe for the next few months. It _will_ be crazy. I’m sorry.” He pulled back and rested his hands on Bucky’s shoulders. “But we should be done in about four months or so. What do you say I fly back through New York? Spend a week or so there on my way back to L.A.?”

Bucky smiled. On the one hand, he had just spent sixteen months away from his family; four was nothing in comparison. On the other hand, though, considering how hard and fast he’d fallen for Steve, four months felt like an eternity. But Steve was worth every road bump that was thrown in their way. “That sounds perfect.”

Steve leaned in, capturing Bucky’s lips in a soft kiss. “I can’t believe we found each other,” he said, leaning his forehead against Bucky’s. “What are the odds, you know? That such a weird, happy accident would bring you right to me, of all people.”

“Wait, accident?” Bucky pulled back and fake-frowned at Steve. “And here I thought this whole time that you were the one who upgraded my ticket and arranged that power outage in Atlanta as some elaborate ploy to meet me.”

Steve laughed. “Okay, you got me. And you know, all those flights cancelled? That was me, too. Perks of being a multi-millionaire and all.”

Bucky nodded knowingly. “I thought so.”

Steve sighed, casting his eyes downward. “I don’t want this to end, you know? It’s like, once we step outside…”

“I know,” Bucky nodded. “I wish we had more time.”

Steve looked pained. “Buck, I can’t. I wish I could just blow off the next few days, but I really do have to get back.”

“I know. I didn’t mean… It just sucks, you know?”

Steve reached for his suitcase and nodded forlornly. “Yeah.”

“Hey.” Bucky took Steve’s hand and threaded their fingers together. “We’ll make this work, okay? You need me, call me.”

Steve managed a small smile. “Quoting Motown songs now?”

Bucky just laughed and wrapped his arm around Steve’s neck, pulling him toward the door.

 

* * *

 

Bucky watched out the window of the taxi as buildings he had seen yesterday whizzed by in reverse. He wished he could reach across the seat and take Steve’s hand. He wished he could slide across the seat and take Steve in his arms. He wished neither one of them had to leave. He wished he didn’t have to wait four months to see the man next to him again. He wished a lot of things.

He hazarded a glance out of the corner of his eye. Steve winked at him. Everything was gonna be okay.

“So, where you headed first?” Bucky asked, for lack of something better to say (well, something he could say in front of the cabbie, anyway).

Steve took a deep breath and blew it out. “Let’s see, I got two days in L.A., then right on to Vancouver to start filming this next movie. Three weeks in Vancouver, then we head to Rome, then Morocco, then… Manila, I think? I’ll have to check the schedule again.”

“Dang. That’s a lot of time zones. That’s gotta suck.”

“And night shoots sometimes, on top of that. You know, I love my job, don’t get me wrong. But I hate not having a regular sleep schedule.” Steve shook his head. “What about you? How long you have left in Alaska?”

“A week, then back home to Brooklyn. Clint and Nat are in Hawaii until the 20th, so I’ll be at Casa George and Winnie until then.”

“That’ll be interesting, huh? Staying with the parents again?”

Bucky huffed a laugh. “That’s not even the half of it. My sister’s staying there too.”

“No shit!”

“Yeah,” Bucky nodded. “Her asshole boyfriend kicked her out of their apartment and moved his new girlfriend in.”

“Ouch.”

Bucky shrugged. “It’ll be okay. Especially since dumbass never changed the locks and Bex and I have a lifetime of pranks under our belts.”

Steve laughed. “Practice makes perfect, huh?”

Bucky smiled wickedly. “Oh, it’s gonna be perfect, all right.”

Steve’s phone chirped in his back pocket before he could say anything. He leaned over and pulled it out, frowning when he saw the message on screen. Bucky saw him click on it, his eyes widening when he saw the full message. “Holy shit,” Steve cursed.

“Something wrong?”

Steve flitted his eyes toward Bucky and shook his head minutely. _Not now._

Bucky watched as Steve typed back furiously to who-the-fuck-ever. The man was white as a sheet. Whatever was in that message had Steve spooked, and there was nothing Bucky could do to help. Not until they got to the airport, anyway.

Only 20 excruciating more minutes to go.

 

* * *

 

Bucky watched helplessly by the curb as Steve tossed a few bills at the cab driver, grabbed his bag off the curb, and raced through the airport doors toward the check-in desk. He picked up his own bag and jogged to catch up. “Steve, wait!”

He caught up to Steve at the airline kiosk. “Steve, talk to me. What the hell happened?”

Steve shook his head as he punched the touchscreen. “Sorry, Buck. I gotta head back. Something…” Steve sighed, not making eye contact. “It’s bad, Buck. I’m sorry.” He grabbed his boarding pass from the printer and took off toward security.

Bucky scrambled to check in for his own flight and catch up to Steve in the security line. Of course, he got there too late, just as a group of two dozen college kids filed in line just behind Steve. Bucky could only stand there and watch from twenty feet away as Steve wound his way through the line, looking scared and anxious. He pulled out his phone and texted Steve.

 

**Anything I can do to help?**

 

He watched Steve read the message and pocket his phone without responding. Fuck, this was bad. Sure, he and Steve had already said their goodbyes, but there was no way Bucky could leave things like this. Something was wrong, and Bucky may not be able to help, but he at least needed Steve to know he was here when and if Steve needed him.

Fortunately the college kids all got shuttered off to the same security checkpoint, so Bucky was able to speed through and catch up just as Steve took off toward the terminal. “Steve, wait!” He caught up to Steve at last ( _7 a.m. PT in the fucking desert every day for a year, thank you_ ) and grabbed him by the arm. “Steve, for fuck’s sake. Will you tell me what’s wrong?”

Bucky watched Steve have some sort of internal debate with himself, finally sighing in resignation. He pulled out his phone, clicked through a few screens, and then handed it to Bucky. “My publicist just sent me this. Hit the internet last night, apparently.”

Bucky glanced down at the screen, and his jaw hit the floor when he saw the photo. The photo of him and Steve. At the Minneapolis airport yesterday. Huddled against the wall across from the customer service desk, leaning in close to each other. It looked every bit as intimate as it had felt at the time.

When Steve had asked Bucky to share a hotel room. And had mentioned something about wanting to sleep with Bucky in the process.

It was just a photo, though, with the caption _Steve Rogers in Minneapolis!_ As far as Bucky could tell, that was it. No headline proclaiming _Action Movie Star Propositions Another Man!_ or _Is Steve Rogers Gay?_ or anything like that. Just a fan who spotted their favorite actor in an airport and took a picture. Sure, it was creepy as shit seeing his own face on the internet like that, but the more Bucky looked at it, the more he was sure it was nothing.

He handed the phone back. “Steve, I don’t think this is as bad as it looks.”

“Not as bad as it looks?!? Do you remember what we were discussing at the time?”

“Yes, I do. And it looks like whoever posted this didn’t overhear anything. Steve, it’s just a picture.”

Steve glanced around to make sure no one was watching. “It may just be a picture to you,” he whispered furiously, “but to me, this is my life. My livelihood. So maybe this person didn’t overhear anything. What if someone else did? What then?”

“So, what? You’re gonna spend the rest of your life looking over your shoulder? Steve, that’s no way to live.”

Steve sighed. “I’m sorry, Buck, but this is the reality of what I do.”

Bucky could tell that Steve was not going to be swayed. Not in an airport terminal with hundreds of people streaming by every minute, anyway. “Look, I disagree, but I don’t have time to argue about this. We both have flights to catch. Just… I’ll call you later, okay? Convince you that there’s nothing to worry about.”

Steve opened his mouth to answer but hesitated, eyes shifting nervously.

“Steve?”

“Buck, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Bucky’s heart leapt into his throat. “What’s not a good idea?” Even before he spoke the words, however, he already knew the answer.

“I don’t think we should talk. For a while, anyway. At least until this dies down, okay?”

“What about New York?”

“Buck, I… I can’t.” Steve couldn’t hide the shame from his face. Bucky started to protest, tell Steve that he was wrong, but Steve waved him off. “Buck, this happened in _Minneapolis_. What do you think would happen in New York, where there’s paparazzi everywhere?”

Bucky couldn’t believe it. No, scratch that. He could. He had been telling himself ever since he first spoke to Steve yesterday not to get his hopes up, that there was no way a man like Steve would ever want to be with a man like Bucky. Well, it turned out he was right. “So that’s it, then?”

Steve looked pained. “Buck, I’m sorry.”

Yeah, that was it, alright. Bucky squared his shoulders, looked Steve in the eye, and nodded. “Well, you have my number. If you ever decide to pull your head out of your ass, give me a call.”

He yanked his bag off the floor and stormed off toward his gate ( _don’t stop, don’t look back, keep your head held high, don’t let him how much he hurt you_ ). He waited until he was seated at the gate, flight beginning to board, absolutely sure that Steve wasn’t going to chase after him ( _and fuck him, he totally should have_ ) before he pulled out his phone and fired off one more text to Steve. Probably his last text ever, if Steve’s stubbornness was any indication.

 

**I will never regret last night. I will never regret meeting you. I will never regret talking to you. And I will never regret falling in love with you.**

 

Bucky’s finger hovered over the Send button, but he hesitated. _Did_ he love Steve? It had been _one frigging day_. In the end, it didn’t matter, he decided. Steve made it perfectly clear that he didn’t feel the same way and wasn’t willing to risk his career or reputation, despite how intense that one day had been. Bucky didn’t blame him; all in all, it did seem a little crazy to be throwing out the L word after knowing someone for just twenty-four hours, despite what the pain in his chest was telling him. He deleted his entire message, and replaced it with another.

 

**I hope you meet someone someday that’s worth the risk.**

 

There was no response. Bucky didn’t expect one, though.

 

 ***

 

_We’ve got all night_

_Let’s take our time_

_Tell me your secrets_

_I’ll tell you mine_

_When it makes us feel better_

_Call it love_

 

***

 

Eight days later Bucky’s phone rang. He winced when he saw his sister’s name on the caller ID; he knew she would be pissed she had to hear it from their mom that he’d decided not to fly home today, but what could he say. He was a coward, at least where his sister’s wrath was concerned. Or maybe he’d used up all of his stores of bravery for one year putting his heart on the line only to have it crushed.

Might as well get it over with now. “Hello?”

“What the fuck, Bucky? I just got home from work and Mom tells me that you cancelled your flight home?”

“Hello to you too. Bex.”

“Don’t you pull that shit with me, Buck. What’s going on?”

Bucky sighed. “Sorry. I should’ve called you. Change of plan.”

“Change of plan?!? A change of plan is flying home tomorrow instead of today. Not driving home across the entire continent instead. You don’t even own a car! Or didn’t you sell yours before you left last year?”

“I bought a new one. Got it used a coupl’a days ago for $3000.”

“Jesus, Bucky. Is that thing even gonna make it out of Alaska?”

“Fuck you, I have a minor in engineering. I know how to buy a goddamn car.” Bucky regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth. This was not how he’d envisioned this conversation. Well, actually he had envisioned skipping this conversation entirely, but clearly things didn’t always work out as planned. “I’m sorry, Bex. I didn’t mean to lie to you. I just didn’t think it would be that big a deal.”

Becca sighed loudly over the phone. “Geez, Buck. You really think you not coming home isn’t a big deal to me? I miss you, you fucker.”

Bucky was not gonna cry. He didn’t cry when he walked away from Steve at the airport last week, and he was not gonna cry now. “I miss you too, Bex. But this is just something I gotta do, okay?”

“Okay, _fine_. You’re forgiven. Now tell me everything.”

Bucky flopped back down onto his bed and sighed. “There’s nothing to tell. I just needed a little more time to decompress first before I jumped back into civilian life. I’m gonna take my time, see some sights, maybe camp out in the Rockies for a night. I should be there in a week or so.” And yeah, maybe it wasn’t the big trip he’d always dreamed of, but it was something.

“Buck, look. Feel free to tell me to fuck off if you want to, but… does this have anything to do with that photo I saw on the internet last week?”

Bucky’s blood ran cold. “What photo?”

“What photo? Nice try. That photo of you and Steve Rogers at the airport in Minneapolis.”

Bucky tried for nonchalance. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Come on, don’t bullshit a bullshitter. You and Steve Rogers were clearly photographed flirting at the Minneapolis airport. Now, the caption said ‘unidentified soldier,’ but I know what you look like. It was you, wasn’t it?”

Fuck. Bucky wanted to lie and tell Becca off, but he knew it was hopeless. He also knew he’d spent every free moment this last week watching all of Steve’s movies, even the bad ones. Yes, perhaps he was a masochist. But this was normal, right? Isn’t this what people did when they broke it off with someone? True, normal people just looked at old photos and text messages, but Bucky dealt with what he had.

He’d even broken down and watched _Braveheart_. Steve had been right.

“Okay, fine. Yes, it was me.”

“And now you’re spending another week alone driving that POS across the country instead of being at home with us. Come on, Buck. Spill.”

“It’s not a POS.”

“ _Bucky_.”

“Okay, fine.” Bucky and his sister had always been at each other’s throats growing up, but that was little stuff. Where the big stuff was concerned they’d always had each other’s backs.

He told her everything: how he’d tripped and fallen into Steve’s lap, how he’d been seated next to Steve on the flight that got delayed, how they’d talked about anything and everything and Bucky had just _known,_ almost since that first conversation, that Steve was someone he could do this with forever. He told her about sharing a hotel room, watching movies and eating junk food, finally, _finally_ , getting to kiss Steve (glossing over the dirtier details).

He told her how Steve had promised him the world, and he'd believed every goddamn word, only to have everything ripped away the moment Steve got the tiniest bit spooked.

“Jesus, Bucky,” Becca said when he was done spilling his guts out over the phone.

“Yeah.”

“You fell in love with him, didn’t you?”

“Yeah. I did.” Bucky was powerless to keep his voice from cracking.

“And you thought he was in love with you, too? Oh, Buck.”

“Don’t say it like that. Like it was just some stupid line he fed me to get me into bed.”

“Even though it probably was?”

Bucky didn’t want to admit she was right, but hell, she was probably right. It was just… it had felt so genuine at the time. So honest. So… reciprocated. “Fuck.”

“That’s too bad, too. I always liked his movies. Sucks he turned out to be some grade-A douchebag.”

“He’s not…”

“ _Bucky_. He lied to you and broke your heart. You want to get over this? Step one, stop defending him.”

“Yeah. Okay.” He knew his sister was right. That didn’t mean it was gonna be easy.

“Wait, I gotta go,” Becca said. “There’s someone at the door.”

“Alright, Bex, take care.”

“You, too. And drive carefully, alright? Take your time. And call me from the road occasionally, you hear me? And send me stupid, touristy pictures of you standing next to the biggest ball of twine or some shit, so I know you’re okay.”

Bucky smiled. “I love you too, Bex.”

 

* * *

 

Becca disconnected the call and tossed her phone onto the couch as she pulled the door open. “Oh, you have got to be fucking kidding me!”

It was Steve Goddamn Rogers standing there, with his fake-earnest smile painted on. “Hi. You must be Becca? I’m Steve. Is, um… is Bucky here? He told me he’d be getting in sometime today. I was hoping I could see him. Talk to him.”

“Seriously?”  Becca crossed her arms and leaned against the door frame. She wasn’t buying any of his aw-shucks demeanor, not for one second. “After the way you treated my brother, you think you’re gonna just waltz in here like your dick is God’s greatest gift and what, expect him to fall at your feet?”

Steve winced at her words, hanging his head as he turned about ten shades of red. “He, um, he told you about that?”

“Yeah. He did. And look, I don’t care who you are. You hurt my brother, you’re lucky all I’m gonna do is slam the door in your face.” She reached for the door, but Steve grabbed it and stopped her.

“Look, I came here to apologize, okay?”

Becca stood there, listening as Steve gave some half-assed explanation as to why he’d bolted and gone radio silent the past week, and then… fuck, maybe it wasn’t so half-assed after all. She sighed. “Alright. This doesn’t mean you’re off the hook, not remotely, but come on in. We should talk.”

 

* * *

 

Bucky hadn’t thought it possible when he’d left Alaska, but he did actually feel better. The sights, the open road, and the chance to visit a few old friends along the way had helped to clear his head, and now the memories of his time with Steve didn’t sting quite so much. Well, the memories of the way he’d basically thrown himself at Steve at the airport, almost sending that damn I-love-you text (not to mention the one that he did send that he’d never gotten a response to) – well, that all still stung a little (mainly in embarrassment), but there was nothing he could do about it now.

After leaving Fairbanks Bucky had decided against driving through Canada, departing Alaska instead on a ferry boat out of Juneau and landing in Bellingham, Washington. A couple of nights camping in Silver Lake park in nearby Mt. Baker, spending his days hiking the trails and canoeing the lake, was exactly what he’d needed to start feeling more like himself. He’d tried to book his next stop at a cabin in California’s Redwood National Park, but it turned out those were booked for months ahead, so after a long day of driving he’d stopped for the night in San Francisco and splurged on a hotel room with a view of the bay. He walked across the Golden Gate Bridge, ate lobster at Fisherman’s Wharf, and indulged in far too much chocolate at Ghirardelli Square.

The Pacific Coast Highway took Bucky through every touristy spot along the California coast. He rode roller coasters at the Santa Cruz Beach Boardwalk; he enjoyed the scenic view along Monterey’s 17 Mile Drive toward Big Sur, where he snapped a few selfies in front of the Bixby Bridge to send to Becca (it wasn’t a ball of twine, but she’d appreciate it nonetheless); he stopped for clams in Pismo Beach; he watched the surfers at sunset in Ventura.

Bucky wasn’t too keen on visiting Los Angeles (not that he’d run into Steve or anything, but the whole city just seemed tainted by association), so he’d decided to leave the coast and drive straight through to Phoenix, where he hooked up with an old Academy classmate for a few days. He and Dugan took a day trip to see the Grand Canyon; it was every bit as breathtaking as Bucky had always imagined.

New Mexico brought a visit to Carlsbad Caverns, Texas a stop in Austin to visit another Academy buddy and do nothing but hang out by the pool and drink beer for the weekend. Arkansas was lovely, and gave Bucky a chance to camp for the night before indulging in one of the signature baths in Hot Springs (and he was never, _ever_ telling anyone how much he’d enjoyed that). But it was when he stopped for barbecue in Memphis, a little over two weeks into his trip, that he suddenly realized just how much he wanted to be home. Part of him wished he could’ve travelled a little longer, but the truth was, he missed his family. The rest of the United States would just have to wait for now.

Two days later he was crossing the Manhattan Bridge into Brooklyn, almost choking on how homesick he was. He wound his way through the Brooklyn streets, as familiar as the back of his hand despite the fact that he hadn’t lived here for twelve years. Visiting for the occasional Christmas never brought the same intensity of emotion he was feeling now; he never let himself think of this city as home while he was Army, just a place he was going to visit.

But now, he was _home._

He parked in front of the house and had barely pulled his bag out of the backseat to throw over his shoulder when the front door flew open and his family came barreling out toward him.

“Bucky!” his mom Winifred practically screamed, throwing her arms around his neck. Bucky had outgrown his mother his Freshman year of high school, but stooping down to hug her back had never seemed awkward in the slightest, especially now after not having seen her for so long. He buried his face in her neck, indulging in the smell of _home_ and _family_ , while she murmured nonsense. “My sweet boy, you’re finally home. I was so worried. My baby, my boy. Love you so much.”

He pulled back, eyes stinging and watery, and kissed her on the cheek. “I love you too, Mom. It’s good to see you again.”

George pulled him in for a big bear hug. “It’s good to finally see you in person and not on that damn computer screen.”

“Yeah, no shit.” He pulled away and turned toward his sister. “Come here, Bex.”

“Bucky, you asshole.” She teared up as she threw her arms around him. “I should replace your toothpaste with mayonnaise for pulling this shit.”

Bucky buried his face in her shoulder, trying not to lose it as he squeezed his sister tight. He was so glad to have one person here who knew, one person who would understand and have his back with regards to what had happened. “You know why I had to do it,” he murmured into her shoulder before releasing her. “Besides, that’s been done. You’re gonna have to up your game if you’re gonna pull one over on me.”

“Hey, I got some skills of my own, there. I’ve had plenty of time to plan while you were taking your little vacation…”

“Okay, you two,” Winnie interrupted. “How about we take this inside and declare a moratorium? From now on, the House of Barnes is the DMZ; no prank wars allowed.”

Becca pushed Bucky’s shoulder as they walked up the path to the front door. “You’re North Korea.”

“I’m not North Korea, you’re North Korea,” Bucky protested, pushing her back.

“Good one Buck.” Becca ruffling his hair. “I see all those months in the desert sharpened your comeback skills.”

Bucky smacked her hand away. “Quit it.”

“Ugh,” Winnie sighed. “Can you two cease and desist for five minutes? We’re not even in the house yet.”

“Oh, Mom, you know we do it out of love,” Becca said, slinging an arm around Bucky’s shoulder. “Right, Buck?”

“Right, Bex,” Bucky replied, returning her one-arm hug. “Nothing but love.”

Becca tightened her arm around Bucky as they came to the front door. “Just remember,” she said, suddenly serious, “everything here is because we love you, okay? We love you, and we just want you to be happy.”

Before Bucky could reply, though, Becca released him and jogged inside. Bucky followed, inhaling deeply and savoring the scent of _home_ , of brownies baking and something Italian cooking and those damn scented candles his mom loved. They’d always annoyed him growing up, but now, well, he’d never smelled anything sweeter.

He dropped his bag in the foyer and shut the door behind him, almost jumping out of his skin when a familiar voice called his name. He would know that voice in his sleep; he heard it back in Minneapolis comparing pasts, sharing stories, confessing secrets, crying out intimate exclamations.

“Bucky?” the voice said ( _and god, why does he always sound like sex when he says my name_?)

“Steve?” Bucky turned around, and nope, that wasn’t an apparition. Steve was standing there in his living room, looking so fucking good in jeans and a light blue button-down and threatening every bit of progress Bucky had made over the last few weeks. Bucky hadn’t even remotely entertained the possibility of seeing Steve so soon, hadn’t prepared a game plan in case it had ever happened ( _and why the fuck is Steve even here instead of Toronto?)_ but he knew what he felt now that he was face-to-face with the man.

Bucky was fucking tired, and just wanted Steve to go away so he could get on with the rest of his life. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to apologize.”

He did look contrite, but fuck him for what he’d put Bucky through. “Fine,” Bucky answered tightly through gritted teeth.

Winnie cleared her throat. “Come on, guys, why don’t we head into the kitchen and let these two talk?” She herded George and Becca toward the back of the house, leaving Bucky and Steve alone.

Bucky stood there a moment, waiting for Steve to say something. Steve said he had come to apologize, but announcing you were going to do something wasn’t the same as actually doing it, right? He cocked an eyebrow at Steve, urging him to continue.

“Bucky, I’m sorry.”

Bucky nodded. “Fine. You’ve apologized. You can show yourself out, right?” He turned to head into the kitchen.

“Bucky, wait! Please. Just give me one minute. Let me explain.”

 _Explain? What the fuck is there to explain? You rejected me, end of story._ There couldn’t be anything more to say than that, right? Because if there was, Steve would’ve called. Or texted. Or done anything other than fucking ignore him for three goddamn weeks. Bucky was a teeny bit curious, though, despite himself. Damn Steve and his soulful, pleading eyes. Bucky stopped, taking in a deep breath that did little to calm him. “Fine. You have one minute, and then I’d like you to leave.”

“Okay. Thank you,” Steve nodded. “The thing is, I wanted to chase you down at the airport. It took me about thirty seconds of watching you walk away to ‘pull my head out of my ass,’ as you put it, and realize what a huge mistake I’d made. I should’ve come after you. I wanted to. But you know, at the time, I just thought… making some scene in an airport two minutes after I’d told you off wouldn’t have convinced you that I was serious.”

“And not calling me or texting me back once over the past three weeks? You thought that would convince me?” Bucky spat out.

“No. I know, it’s just… this was too big, you know? Not the kind of thing I could apologize for in a text message. I had to do it in person.”

Bucky nodded once. “Fine. You done now?”

Steve seemed to deflate at Bucky’s tone. “Yeah. Well, no. Sort of. I, um, I put my house on the market. I’m leaving Hollywood. Moving back to New York.”

That made Bucky startle. “You’re quitting?”

“Not completely. Just a few things. I still have one movie I’m doing.” Steve offered a tentative smile. “I was actually kinda hoping to spend a few months driving across the country? You know, hit all the major national parks, do some camping here and there. That sound like something you might wanna do? With me?”

Bucky was stunned. Of all the things Steve could’ve said, leaving Hollywood was the last one that Bucky would’ve expected. So many conflicting emotions and contradictory thoughts swirled through his brain, all competing for attention. Just one word rose above all the others, though, the only thing Bucky could hear coherently enough in his addled mind to utter. “Why?”

Steve sighed, looking at Bucky once again like Bucky was his whole world ( _and fuck him for bringing out the big guns at a time like now_ ), and simply said, “Because I love you. Because I want to be with you. Because you _are_ worth it, and I’m an idiot for not realizing it sooner.”

This was all too much; Bucky couldn’t take this right now. He had just spent the past three weeks starting to come to terms with the fact that he’d had and lost the best thing that had ever happened to him, and now Steve had to come in and say shit like that? No. “Steve, look. I don’t doubt that you felt something. I felt it too, you know. But if you love somebody, you don’t walk away from them the second some tiny thing gets in the way, and you don’t leave them hanging and not contact them for three weeks.”

“I know. Bucky, I know I fucked up, and I’m sorry. That’s why I came. I want to make this right.”

“Yeah, that’s another thing – how are you even here? And tonight of all nights?”

Steve sighed. “I actually stopped by two weeks ago, when you were originally supposed to fly in. I remember you saying Casa George and Winnie, so I looked up George Barnes in Brooklyn, and… look, for the record, yeah, I know I stopped by unannounced that other time, but this time it wasn’t my idea. I didn’t want to ambush you after your trip, but Becca said…”

Bucky shook his head. He should’ve known his sister had something to do with this. “Well, your instincts were right. I’m feeling pretty fucking ambushed right now. I’m tired, I’ve been driving since 7:00 this morning, and I just wanna relax with my family. So, if you don’t mind…”

“Sure.” Steve nodded. “I’ll get out of your hair. But please, just… I’m gonna send you something, okay? Just promise me you’ll read it, and when you’re ready, _if_ you’re ready, we can talk. I’ve got a place not too far from here, so we can meet up, or just talk on the phone, or whatever. But, just promise me you’ll read it, okay?”

Bucky nodded, not knowing what else to say, and watched as Steve walked away from him. Well, that was something, right? Progress, or whatever? Now Steve would know what it felt like to walk away and not have someone chase after you. Because Bucky was not going after him. He’d given Steve his one minute, and now he was done.

He sank down into the sofa, weary and overwhelmed. What the fuck had just happened? And what the fuck was he supposed to do now? Dinner with his family, he supposed; they probably overheard everything anyway. Dad would have a shot of whisky ready for him. Mom would offer him extra brownies. And Becca, well, she’d probably let him cry on her shoulder later after everyone else had gone to bed.

Just then his phone vibrated in his pocket with the incoming message. Fuck, he had almost forgotten. Bucky contemplated leaving it, or deleting it, but Steve had sounded so sincere about wanting Bucky to read it. And damn it if Bucky wasn’t just a little curious. He pulled out his phone, swiped it open, and clicked on the text message.

Except that it wasn’t a text message, but a link to a post on Steve’s Instagram, dated _before_ Bucky was originally supposed to fly home. Bucky clicked on it and found a picture of Steve, what looked like a selfie with the Statue of Liberty in the background, with a long text post below.

 

_Hi folks, Steve here. As all of you probably know, I recently lost my mother. I would like to thank you for all the well wishes, but in the wake of her loss I have come to a few decisions about the direction my life and career were going, and I have decided to make a few changes. First of all, I have dropped out of almost all of the projects I had lined up (don’t worry; I’m still doing the Howling Commandos!). I agreed to most of them in the wake of my loss, and now I realize it just wouldn’t be fair to everyone involved to have a star who wasn’t fully invested. I am grateful to everyone involved in those projects for being so supportive and understanding. All I can ask of you now is the same support and understanding as I navigate this next phase of my life. I don’t know what the future holds, and that’s something that scares me a little. But in a good way._

_Second of all, losing such a strong, courageous force in my life made me realize that I wasn’t living my life in a fully honest and courageous way like my mom would’ve wanted, so I would like to come clean. I am a gay man. This is something I’ve always known about myself, and I’ve never tried to keep it a secret from those closest to me. But I have kept it from all of you, and for that I am sorry. I wished we lived in a society that didn’t make people like me feel like this is something that even needs to be hidden. I know the tide is slowly turning. Maybe putting my story out there will help, I don’t know._

_What I do know is that falling in love is something no one should ever be ashamed of or try to hide. I made that mistake recently and in my selfish, stupid stubbornness I hurt someone very deeply. To this man I would like to say: YOU ARE ABSOLUTELY WORTH THE RISK. You are worth everything._

_#okayguys #speculateaway #comingout #gaypride #lgbtq_

 

* * *

 

Holy shit. Bucky just sat there, stunned. He read it again 3 times, and sat there stunned some more. _Steve had really quit_. He'd come out publicly. He’d risked his job, his reputation, his life as he knew it, not knowing whether Bucky would even give him the time of day ever again.

He had risked everything.

Bucky leapt off the sofa, pocketed his phone, and pulled out his keys. As he twisted the handle to the front door, Becca called out from somewhere in the back of the house, “Go get ‘im, Buck!”

Bucky would’ve told her off for setting this whole thing up, but as it was, he'd probably have to buy her dinner or something. He and Steve still had stuff to talk about, but fuck, that was just details. This was real. It was real, and it was worth fighting for.

It was worth the risk.

Maybe Steve hadn’t gone far, and Bucky could still find him. He had no idea how, but he had to try. Chase him down. Have a dramatic romantic-comedy-style moment on the street corner with Bucky calling out Steve’s name as he ran elegantly through the moonlit streets of New York. With the Empire State Building in the background or some shit.

As it was, though, he didn’t have to go far, since Steve was coming up the front walkway toward the house.

Three seconds ago Bucky was ready to fight. To chase Steve down and convince him that he was ready and willing to try again. But seeing Steve right there in front of him? The unexpectedness of it threw him for a loop and erased every thought that had been forming in his head.

“You’re still here,” Bucky blurted. ( _Yes, very articulate of you. Perfect._ )

“Yeah. Well, no. I mean, started to leave.”

“But you decided against it?”

“I was about to get in the car, but… to be honest, I was kinda hoping you’d come after me, like I should’ve done in Minneapolis.” Steve shrugged and tried to smile, but it just came out looking strained. “Thought I’d make it easy on you.”

Bucky came down the steps and stood in front of Steve. “That really hurt, you know.”

“I know.” Steve’s fingers twitched at his sides, like they longed to reach out and grab Bucky. “Believe me, not coming after you was probably the second biggest mistake of my life.”

Bucky held his breath. “And the biggest?”

“Letting you walk away in the first place.” Steve stepped closer to Bucky and turned the full force of those soulful eyes on him. “Bucky, I’m sorry that I didn’t have more faith in you. In this. In us. I just couldn’t believe that something like this was real.”

Yeah, Bucky was familiar with that sentiment. “So what changed your mind?”

“Reading your message, watching you walk away from me? It made me realize that nothing else in my life, since I moved to Hollywood and started acting, _nothing_ has made me as happy as those two days with you.”

“Steve,” Bucky breathed, blinking back the stinging in his eyes. Damn, that was some classic romance movie shit right there.

Steve placed his hands on Bucky’s hips, pulling him minutely closer. “I have felt for so long like there was something wrong with me. Like I was broken, because I had all these things that everyone dreams about, but none of it meant anything. And then I met you, and I felt for this little bit of time like I wasn’t broken anymore. It was like you’d come in and filled all the cracks and put me back together again. But not like you tried to fix me, or erase any trace I was ever broken; it was almost like – like you _liked_ the broken parts of me, like you might even love me, not in spite of my flaws, but because of them.”

Bucky exhaled shakily. If he had needed any sort of confirmation that he was doing the right thing by coming after Steve and trying to make this work, that right there was it. Bucky knew exactly what Steve meant, because it was how he had felt too. Like he was that broken Japanese pottery, and Steve was the gold that came along and filled the cracks, putting him back together and illuminating his beautiful brokenness.

Steve was his gold, and he was Steve’s.

Steve reached up, cradling Bucky’s face in his hands, wiping away a stray tear that Bucky didn’t realize had spilled over. “Have you ever heard of this Japanese art form, kintsugi? It’s where they…”

Bucky had heard enough. He grabbed Steve by the lapels and pulled him in, crashing their mouths together. Steve whimpered against his lips, holding back for just a moment before throwing his arms around Bucky, pulling their bodies flush. Bucky opened to Steve without hesitation, deepening the kiss, feeling for the first time in three weeks like everything was right, like he wasn’t fighting the current just to stay afloat. Steve was here. Steve was home. Steve was his.

“God, Bucky,” Steve panted as they parted, “I missed you so much.”

“Missed you too,” Bucky replied, leaning his forehead against Steve’s. “These last few weeks were… well, not bad, actually. It was good. I needed it. But I hated how much I missed you.”

“I hated how I left things. I am so sorry, Buck. I was such a jerk to you in that airport.”

Bucky stroked Steve’s cheek, relishing how Steve shivered under his touch. “Just don’t do it again, okay?”

“Never,” Steve murmured as he leaned in, capturing Bucky’s lips once more.

Bucky no longer had any regret about running right back into the arms of this man who had hurt him so deeply, because he could feel from the moment their lips met the depths of Steve’s love for him. He knew, because it was exactly the way he was kissing Steve back. And for fuck’s sake, this man had left practically his entire life behind to move across the country, for _Bucky Barnes_ of all people. Either the man was insane or he was in love. Maybe they both were. All Bucky knew was that Steve’s kisses were the things dreams were made of.

He would know. He had dreamt of them almost every night for the past three weeks.

“I still can’t believe you’re here,” Bucky marveled. “And you really did this for me? You think I’m worth leaving your entire life behind?”

Steve sighed, letting his hands slip from Bucky’s shoulders. “Okay, this is gonna sound… bear with me, okay? Because I need to say this, but I’m probably not gonna say it right.”

Bucky’s heart beat nervously in his chest as Steve took his hand and led them to the steps to sit down. Steve took a few deep breaths, seeming to draw strength from looking at their fingers intertwined. Bucky squeezed his hand nodded for Steve to continue.

“You remember that night, when we were talking about our first dates and you said that I didn’t become an actor because of some asshole who stood me up in high school, that I did it for myself?” He glanced at Bucky, who nodded for him to continue. “Well, you were absolutely right. I did it for myself, because this is something I love. Only, somewhere along the way it stopped being something I love and started being something I feel obligated to do because I have so many people depending on me.”

Bucky’s heart broke a little for Steve, thinking of him agreeing to movie after movie, project after project that must’ve been so far removed from those little high school plays that made him fall in love with acting, just because there was some agent, or publicist, or trainer, or whatever, that depended on Steve for an income. But Bucky still had no idea where Steve was going with this. He nodded for Steve to go on.

“I need you to know, Buck, I didn’t do this for you, not exactly. I didn’t quit all those movies, or sell my house and move here, for you. I did that stuff for me, because it was something I needed to do for myself. You remember when I told you about that script that I love, and about how much I loved doing theater back in high school? You made me want those things again. You opened my eyes to just how empty my life had been. I didn’t exactly do those things _for_ you. I did it for myself, _because_ of you. If that makes any sense.”

That might’ve been the highest praise Bucky had ever gotten. He cradled Steve’s face in his hands and gave him a soft kiss. “So what you’re saying is, I make you want to be a better man?” He quirked an eyebrow at Steve.

Steve smiled back and pushed his shoulder. “See, I knew you were a fan of romance movies. World-weary and cynical, my ass.”

Bucky shrugged. “Becca’s the romance movie fan. I just happen to be in the same room sometimes.”

“Well, I promise I’ll keep your secret,” Steve winked as he knocked their shoulders together.

Bucky leveled a serious gaze at Steve. “As long as you promise not to shut me out next time you get scared, you hear me?” He squeezed Steve’s hand, hoping to soften the blow of his words.

Steve’s face crumpled anyway. “I am so sorry, Buck. I am. The thing is, though, I’ve never been in love before. Not like this. And I know that’s no excuse, and I can’t promise I won’t fuck up again, but I can promise you from now on, no more secrets. No more hiding.”

“No more hotel rooms?” Bucky cocked an eyebrow at Steve.

Steve face turned pink as he smiled shyly. “Well, we don’t need to take things _that_ far.”

Bucky squeezed Steve’s hand again and leaned against him, feeling the solid warmth he had tried so hard to forget over the past few weeks. It was still so unbelievable ( _inconceivable!_ ) that Steve was even here. And that he'd made everything public. “So are you really ready to do this?”

“I’m ready. If you’ll have me.”

“Yeah, Steve,” Bucky murmured. “I’ll have you.”

Steve cocked an eyebrow at Bucky. “Right here on the front steps? Kinky.”

“Oh, shut up. You said it f…”

Bucky didn’t get to finish, though, as Steve cut him off with a kiss. It was softer, slower than before, but full of promise. Promises of moving in together, of Steve teaching Bucky how to cook, of Bucky introducing Steve to Nat and Clint (and poker night). Promises of road trips across the country together, of Steve bringing Bucky coffee during late night study sessions in the fall (nursing school, he'd been thinking, because he wanted to work at the VA), of Bucky helping Steve scout filming locations for the movie they both knew he was going to direct.

Promises of countless more nights spent together kissing, making love, falling asleep in each other’s arms. Promises of a life together.

Bucky laughed as they parted. “I can’t believe you posted all that on Instagram, ‘Speculate away?’ I bet your followers went nuts.”

“Like you wouldn’t believe.” Steve twisted away, pulling his phone out of his back pocket and clicking on the camera app. “Speaking of, you wanna take a selfie with me? Make this Instagram official?”

Bucky frowned. “Steve…”

“Oh. Yeah.” Steve lowered his phone and clicked it off. “Too much too soon, right? We should give this time. We’re not going anywhere, right? Why rush it?”

“No, it’s just… Are you sure? I mean, coming out, practically quitting your job – are _you_ sure this isn’t too much? I mean, you’re still kind of in mourning over losing your mom and all. I don’t want to make you do something you’ll regret later.”

“Yeah, Bucky, I lost my mom. It was a horrible accident that I couldn’t do anything about. But losing you? That was completely my fault, and something I could fix. I don’t want to lose you again. _That_ is something I would regret. But missing out on a bunch of money for a bunch of movies I would’ve hated making anyway, because the only thing I would’ve been able to think about was how much I fucked things up with you?” Steve took Bucky’s hand in his own again. “No regrets whatsoever. But I completely understand if you want to take things slow. I know I haven’t given you much of a reason to trust me, so…”

“Steve,” Bucky cut him off with a smile. “Take the damn picture already.”

In the end, it was two pictures Steve posted: one with them both trying to smile at the camera and failing miserably, as they couldn’t stop smiling at each other; and one with them leaning in for a kiss, because now that they had this they just couldn’t hold back anymore.

 

_Guys, meet my new boyfriend. (Wow, that’s weird to say!) I’m not ready to tell you all his name just yet, so for now you can just call him “unidentified solder.”  ;)_

_#worththerisk_

 

* * *

 

Bucky figured Steve had already had some sort of meet-the-parents moment, considering the guy had been in their living room when Bucky arrived, but he had to bring Steve inside and make it official anyway.

“Hey guys,” Becca called out as soon as they walked in the door. “Nice photo!”

“Jesus, Bex,” Bucky groaned. “Could you not, for just two seconds?”

“Rebecca Jane, don’t start with your brother. He’s had a long day,” George ordered as he removed a dish from the oven and laid it on the table.

“Mom, Dad,” Bucky said, tightening his fingers in Steve’s, “I know you guys have probably already met anyway, but I’d like you to meet my boyfriend, Steve Rogers.”

Winnie crossed over to where the two were standing, and kissed Steve on the cheek. “It’s good to see you again, Steve dear. You staying for dinner this time?”

Bucky did a double take. “Wait, _this time_? How many times have you been over here?”

“Four?” Steve winced. “In my defense, though, it was all Becca’s fault.”

Becca picked up a dinner roll and threw it at Steve. “Oh sure, throw me under the bus. Mom was the one who kept asking him to stay for dinner.”

“And I never did!” Steve protested. “I swear, I wanted to wait for you.”

“Then why did you even come back, after I wasn’t here that first time?” Bucky asked.

Steve shrugged. “I don’t know anybody else in New York?”

“Plus, his apartment-hunting skills suck ass,” Becca added. “He needed some serious help.”

“Oh, god,” Bucky groaned. It was hopeless. He turned to Steve. “Are you sure you don’t want to back out? ‘Cause I’m not so sure what’s worse, dealing with the public or dealing with my family.”

“I don’t know,” Steve smiled. “They’re not so bad.”

Bucky pulled out a chair at the table and gestured for Steve to sit down. “You say that now, but wait until you get fired from the Howling Commandos movie for not fitting into your costume because Mom wouldn’t stop nagging you about being too skinny.”

Winnie grabbed Steve’s plate and started filling it with lasagna. “You do look like you haven’t had a good home-cooked meal in a while, dear.”

“Leave the boy alone, Win,” George insisted. “He’s had a rough few weeks.”

Bucky sat back in his chair and shook his head in disbelief. “It’s like I’m not even here.”

Steve leaned in and murmured in his ear. “ _I’m_ glad you’re here.”

“Me too,” Bucky smiled. “So, still worth it?”

Steve captured Bucky’s lips in a soft kiss. “Always.”

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> This is inspired by those stories you see every now and then about those lucky bastards who get seated next to Sebastian Stan on a plane and spend the whole flight chatting with him, mashed with my mom's ordeal flying home during the 2016 Delta Airlines computer system outage in Atlanta. Bucky's Army career is very loosely based on my brother's. After 8 years regular Army post-West Point, he'd probably be at least a Captain, but I kept him a Lieutenant because Captain Barnes just sounded weird. Although Captain America dating Captain Barnes would've made for some great headlines after Steve came out. Ah, well. Choose your own headcanon there.
> 
> Steve's films are based on Chris Evans', as you may have noticed. "20 Times a Lady" is the title of the book that "What’s Your Number?" was based on. “The teen mother of all movies” is the advertising tag line for "Not Another Teen Movie."
> 
> The Jesus rally/naked bicycle riders at Trafalgar Square thing totally happened when I went to London in 2014. And if you've never seen "The Godfather," don't. Read the book instead. Trust me.


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